They All Lived Story 25: All Out of Love
by LadyWordsmith
Summary: Coming back alive does not mean coming back unchanged. War is like alchemy; for everything gained something is also lost. Getting on with life is easier for some than others, especially if the world feels like it's falling apart. 11 chapters
1. Determining the Composition 1

**October 22****nd****, 1952**

Paid leave; two words every soldier wanted to hear! After a year of active duty, everyone in the initial wave who had gone into Aerugo had plenty of it. Other than the ceremony they were having that afternoon to honor the Amestrians who had returned home, Edward had no other responsibilities for, well, pretty much as long as he could want.

They had only been home for two days and already Ed felt overwhelmed and a little lost in it all. He had gotten used to having Alphonse around again all the time but his brother was spending all of his time with his wife and daughter, as he_ ought _to. The one time he had talked to Al on the phone since they got back his brother had sounded happier and more relaxed than he had at any point in Ed's recent memory.

Sara had come over for dinner the night before, and it had been a subdued but reasonably comfortable family gathering. Ed had done his best not to make things awkward, and Sara had politely not asked about anything personal. Mostly it was Ethan who talked. He was the only one of the three who didn't have a war story to tell, though Winry had several about people that had been helped. Ed suspected she talked to help fill the empty spaces. He wished she would just let the silences be.

His daughter was absorbed in other things too, he knew, and he expected that most of Sara's leave would be spent with Franz Heimler. Ed was no longer the primary man in his daughter's life. Like all fathers, he had been replaced when he wasn't looking. He had been expecting it, encouraged it even, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Ethan seemed the least changed, but even he was not the same as when Ed had left. He was independent, confident, and so far ahead of the rest of his class in school that Ed wouldn't have been surprised to hear he would finish even earlier than expected. Ethan was his match in height now. It was kind of a relief that his son still wrote Lia regularly and didn't seem to have any local romantic interests. At least it was one constant in a world that seemed to have lost the rest.

Or maybe it was just him. No matter what Ed did the last couple of days, he seemed out of synch with everyone else. If he held a door for Winry, she insisted that she could get it herself; she wasn't an invalid despite her injury. Any attempt to be helpful around the house seemed to be taken as a sign of agitation or placation.

"You're trying too hard," Winry told him that morning when he made breakfast and cleaned the kitchen. "You don't have to do anything special, Ed. I told you we're okay."

Ed lost his appetite at that point. He wasn't going to get into it with her. Arguing wouldn't help and he knew everyone was still wound tight and stressed out. He let it be.

Now he stood on the parade grounds of Central Headquarters on a stage in front of thousands of guests and the soldiers that remained of his command, as well as the others who had come home with Armstrong and Kane. His dress uniform was stiff, not nearly as comfortable as the one he had worn for the past year, and a little loose. Not that he was the only one to come home from the war lighter than he'd left. It hadn't exactly been a cushy assignment.

Alphonse stood to his left, in a uniform just as freshly pressed, his hair once more trimmed up neatly the way he usually kept it. Brewster stood to the left of his brother. On Ed's right stood Armstrong and Kane. Rehnquist was still in Aerugo for another few months. Behind them their subordinate officers were arrayed neatly, and other than haggard faces and loose uniforms, they looked as polished as any group ought to on the parade grounds.

Ed felt like a complete idiot. He didn't feel like a hero. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't one. Not this time. Too many people had died when Ed wasn't convinced they actually had to, and for a cause Ed now doubted. His heart weighed heavy, and he knew it would be a long time before he could look at this whole mess with any objectivity.

He spent most of the ceremony noticing the changes in his colleagues, though he paid _some _attention to Breda's speech. It was about what he expected; words of thanks for risking their lives in the defense of innocent people and over-throwing a tyrant government. Fortunately the speech was short. Breda wasn't known for being long-winded, and Ed was grateful.

Then came the longer part of the ceremony, the one Ed really could have done without; as a large number of the officers – starting with himself and the rest of the Command – received commendations, medals, and in a few cases promotions. Alphonse didn't object – though Ed suspected he would have in private – to being made a Lieutenant General. Ed was sure that Roy and Riza were bursting with pride when Maes was finally promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. He felt his own heart swell when he watched Breda make Sara a Colonel. Kane caught his eye in that moment with an _I told you so _glint in his eye. Ed's daughter deserved it and he was proud of her. A whoop in the audience was almost certainly Franz, and Ed knew that Winry and Ethan were down there in the crowd near the front, though he didn't glance in their direction.

When it was over the officers, their families, and the Assembly adjourned inside for a reception that Ed would have preferred to skip. The new medals on his jacket irritated him but Ed put on a good face, smiling and thanking anyone who approached for their kind words and accepting their gratitude as graciously as he could manage. What he wanted was just to see old friends and talk like they used to, not all of this drama.

He finally got his wish as he stopped by the drinks table for another glass of champagne. He wasn't really fond of the stuff, but it was all they were serving. Ed picked up a glass and turned to find Roy standing next to him. "Was it like this after Ishbal?" Ed couldn't help asking.

Roy's expression blanked for a moment and Ed wanted to hit himself. He was out of practice at being conversational. "Just like this," Mustang replied quietly, taking a sip of his own drink.

Ed could tell by his tone that Roy understood what he really meant. "So when does the feeling of hypocrisy go away?"

Roy smirked. "When it happens I'll let you know."

The real answer: never. Ed hadn't really expected anything different. It was time to change the subject. "So how's the Lieutenant Colonel taking his promotion?" They both knew Maes probably would have been promoted a couple of years ago if he hadn't screwed himself over.

"In a bit of a daze," Roy chuckled, gesturing toward one corner with the hand that held his glass. Ed followed the line and saw Maes with most of the younger officers, Elena on his arm, beaming with pride. "Fortunately Elena has him well in hand." Ed glanced back at Roy. There was a light there; a lack of strain, relief. Ed knew Roy had been in the War Room with Breda and Brahm through most of this so far, but it seemed to have revived him instead of worn him down. Ed wondered what the difference was that made it this way. Roy, at least, might still believe in the cause that had sent Ed to Aerugo in the first place. Right now he would do nothing to disillusion his friend of that.

"She does have a way with him," Ed agreed instead with a chuckle. "Of course, she was an ambassador's daughter. She seems very at home doesn't she?"

"As Maes rather emphatically insisted, she _is _home," Roy chuckled. "Surprisingly, he actually listens to her too."

"Good," Ed smirked. "Then hopefully she can help keep him out of trouble."

"Or succeed despite the odds," Roy replied, his expression softening slightly. Ed suspected he was thinking of Riza.

"That too," Ed nodded. Roy was lucky. Riza had stood beside him for years, and that was a large part of why Roy had succeeded in everything he did. He smirked. "So are you drinking that or just gesturing with it," he nodded to Roy's almost untouched glass of champagne.

The Flame Alchemist smirked knowingly. "I'm keeping up appearances."

That's what this was all about after all, wasn't it? After he finished chatting with Roy, Ed drifted for most of the reception. He went from small group to small group, but never really engaged in deep conversation. It was all such a waste of time and money but it was good for the morale of the State. Maybe if Ed kept telling himself that enough he could stomach it a little longer.

"Ed!" Breda smiled as he made his way through the crowd, having apparently extricated himself from some rather boring conversation. There were a lot of those when dealing with Assemblymen. They wanted to make everything about politics. His old compatriot looked pretty good considering he was the head of an invading nation and Ed knew how tough the last year had been. There was less red in his hair, but he looked like he'd slimmed down a little more since Ed had left too. The man would never be lean by any stretch of the imagination, but apparently he was doing all right without his workout partner – that or Nancy just kept on to him that efficiently. "Having a good time?" Breda asked him.

"Do you want the truth?" Ed asked warily. He didn't want to hurt his friend's feelings, but he wasn't sure how politick he could be or for how much longer.

Breda's smile lessened just slightly but he shrugged. "Judging from your expression a minute ago I'd guess you would rather be eating glass, but that's just an assumption."

Oh good, at least Breda didn't feel this was anything more than a dog-and-pony show either. Or at least, he wasn't offended that Ed wasn't having fun. "You wouldn't be far off from the truth," he admitted with a shrug. "You know I don't like these kinds of social events."

"I know," Breda nodded. "That's why I wanted to thank you for putting up with everything today. It means a lot to the people here and to the men."

"Yeah, I'm sure watching you pin medals on the guy who led their buddies to their graves is a real crowd pleaser." Ed sipped from his glass then cringed as Breda's expression changed. Shit, he'd done it again. "Sorry." Maybe it would just be better if he left.

Breda sighed. "You know that's not how they see you; any of you. Not that I expect you to believe me," he shrugged. "I only_ read_ the reports that get sent to me."

"Yeah, well, you could be a little timelier about passing information down the line next time," Ed replied gruffly. There was one thing that had annoyed him all this time.

"What do you mean?" Breda didn't look like he'd gotten the hint.

"You could have warned me that Winry was in Aerugo," Ed replied flatly. "All that time I thought she was safe at home." He didn't mention the fight.

"I'm sorry, Ed," Breda seemed earnestly apologetic as he realized the problem. "By the time we were back in regular contact, it didn't occur to me that you didn't know. I really figured someone else would have told you by then."

"Well no one did," Ed shook his head. "Not you, not Roy. The only official word came from Elicia and that was _after_ Winry was all the way down in Bueáire." He looked across the room where Winry was talking with Alphonse and Elicia. "Let's improve communication lines next time shall we?"

"Hopefully there won't be a next time," Breda shook his head. "I'm hoping it won't take more than another few months to quash the fighting and turn the whole thing over to the politicians."

"Can we talk about something else?" Ed interrupted. He knew he was being rude, but right now Aerugo was the _last_ thing he wanted to talk about.

"Right, sorry," Breda chuckled. "Bad habit. Enjoy your leave while you get it, Ed. Frankly I'm jealous. I'd love to take a break from all of this. Loosen up okay? There will be plenty of time to scowl and be miserable when you get back to work."

"Makes me so eager to get back," Ed retorted.

"I'm sure it does," Breda shrugged and turned to go. "Oh, and don't forget everyone's got to talk to the counselors before the end of the week. We want to make sure everyone came back in one piece up here too," he tapped his forehead and headed off again.

"Right, I won't," Ed sighed. As if he could ever forget. He never liked talking to the psychiatric counselors that the State employed specifically to keep on eye on the minds of their employees. Oh he didn't have a problem with them really anymore, but he still didn't enjoy sharing private problems and feelings with people he didn't know very well. He hated being psychoanalyzed. At least this time he had come out of the situation relatively sane compared to the Xing War. The nightmares were there of course, but no flash backs so far, no panic attacks, and he was getting some sleep at night. He was functional and while he wasn't cleared for full sparring duty for teaching yet thanks to his still-healing stomach muscles, there was nothing really that should keep him from being able to resume his duties with the State Alchemy Program whenever he felt like it.

While Ed wasn't sure exactly when he would want to get back to work, he knew it wouldn't be too long. He had never been one for sitting still and doing nothing, especially not after spending a solid year on the move. The train ride had made him jittery enough. Ed knew it was only a matter of time before his reflexes settled back down. Bueáire and the relative safety of the Embassy had been good for his nerves. At least in that he wasn't flinching constantly at small noises, expecting to be shot at in any given moment. Cars backfiring made him look, but Ed had been a fighter since childhood; awareness of his surroundings was nothing new.

They stayed later than Ed wanted, but that was mostly because Winry was obviously having a better time than he was and Ed still felt guilty about how things had turned out. Ed needed to find a real way to apologize for going off knowing how Winry felt and assuming she would be here waiting patiently like she used to. He had forgotten how badly it hurt to constantly worry about losing someone, how he had felt when Winry almost died years back. Knowing she was in Aerugo and could be killed reminded him of that, and that only piled on the guilt. After all, she felt that way every time _he _went off into danger. Ed had to find a way to make it up to her. He just wished he knew how.

**October 28****th****, 1952**

It was an awkward and frustrating week for Winry. She couldn't get over to Rockbell Auto-Mail on her own to check on things because she couldn't drive with her ankle still bandaged and aching. While she wanted to take a little time off and spend it with her family, she wanted to deal with making sure everything had gone all right in her absence first.

Edward volunteered to drive her over. At first, Winry thought nothing of it, but as the week went on she couldn't help but feel that Ed was acting out of character. Not that he wasn't a giving person, but it was almost too much. He took her anywhere she wanted, cleaned, cooked, anything she wanted and a few things she didn't.

When she tried telling him she didn't really need the help – she was capable of doing _some_ things on her own – he got the strangest expression on his face. It reminded her of the face she usually saw on a puppy after someone kicked it. Not that it lasted more than a moment. Ed simply apologized and left off folding the laundry. Winry felt bad. He was only trying to be helpful and she was sure it was his way of apologizing, but it just felt strange. It wasn't like doing chores could wipe away the emotional pain she was still dealing with; not that she didn't appreciate the gesture.

That was Thursday and after that Ed seemed to get the message. Other than his usual share of things around the house, he seemed to relax a little. That was good. It gave Winry something to do! She liked mindless chores sometimes when she wanted to think about other things, or to simply lose herself in a task that didn't require a lot of attention. During the day Ethan had school and while Ed didn't have to be at work he didn't seem much inclined toward conversation either.

After a year in constant interaction with a lot of other people in a hostile situation, Winry couldn't really blame him for that. So she let him be when he vanished into the alchemy workshop, or went outside on the back porch, or went for a walk. He was contemplative and clearly had a lot to sort out. When he wanted to talk he would come to her. He always did.

For her part, Winry was actually glad for the counselors employed by the military and its hospital. She'd had a wonderful conversation with one of them on Friday that had been a real relief. As much as she talked to Elicia and even Riza, it was nice to talk to someone who could often explain to Winry _why_ she felt the way she did when she couldn't figure it out for herself and also wasn't going to let anything slip that Winry didn't want shared. It was a job Winry had done for others, and it was a relief to know that her frustrations were normal.

So she waited. On Saturday she suggested that the three of them – Ethan included – could go to the movies or maybe just take a walk in the park and have a picnic. Edward hadn't been rude about it, but he begged off. He wasn't in the mood for public places and having to be nice to people he didn't know who came up to talk to him. That had happened earlier in the week, so Winry understood. Still, it was disappointing. She didn't want to push him, but she wanted to talk; to be there for him the way he used to let her, and hopefully get support in return. Well, perhaps tomorrow.

Sunday morning she woke up with a splitting headache and feeling mildly light-headed. It happened occasionally so Winry didn't think much of it. She simply got up and went about the day. Ed was still sleeping in the guest room; to keep from bothering her since he was still having trouble sleeping, he said. So it wasn't until she got downstairs that Ethan informed her Ed had gone out early for a run. Ed didn't come back until it was almost time for lunch. Winry was sitting at the table reading a book when he got home.

For once, Ed looked like he was actually in a good mood. He was grinning, and his t-shirt was darkened with sweat as he came into the kitchen and filled a large glass with water.

"How was your time, Dad?" Ethan asked curiously as he pulled bread and the other fixings for sandwiches out of the pantry and refrigerator.

"Twenty-five minutes," Ed replied, coming back into the room and leaning against the wall as he drained the glass in a few gulps. "Not my best five miles, but not too bad considering." He glanced over at Winry and chuckled. "Still in your pajamas at this hour?"

"Is there a law against being comfortable on a Sunday morning?" Winry asked, trying not to sound as agitated and tired as she felt. There was no use complaining after all.

"Well, no," Ed shrugged. "I'd just got of forgotten what you look like in the morning."

"What does that mean?" Sure, Winry had been up and dressed for the day before coming downstairs this week, but the tone in his voice made her wonder what he was inferring. It was odd for Ed to bother_ inferring _anyway.

Ed's smile faded a little. "Nothing; It was just an observation. Sheesh, don't get touchy about it."

She was really not in the mood for games. Winry put her book away and walked past Ed into the kitchen to help Ethan with lunch. "If your run only took twenty-five minutes what took you all morning?" she asked as she made her own sandwiches.

Ed shrugged and stood there, watching. "I decided to put in a full workout. Doc Gray said on Friday I should be all right for it as long as I didn't push too hard."

"I take it you survived," Winry quipped as she finished making one sandwich and started on the next.

Ed smirked and kept watching. "You know," he said after a minute. "You could always come with me sometime."

"Me?" Winry chuckled, eyeing him. "Be serious."

Ed's contemplative look turned immediately into a scowl. "I am. What's wrong with the idea?"

"For one thing, I can't run five miles," Winry pointed out. Especially not right now with her ankle. Fortunately she had been able to finally get rid of the crutches as long as she went easy on it.

"That's because you never try," Ed snorted. "It just takes a little effort to get in decent shape."

Winry paused, quashing the irrational urge to fling mayonnaise in his face. "Are you suggesting that I am _not_ in decent shape?" She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she went back to work. Ethan finished making his sandwiches and ducked out of the kitchen like a squirrel on fire.

The smirk returned. "I don't know. It's hard to tell under the robe." Which could mean just about anything; Winry hated it when he dodged questions with sarcasm. It stung too. Ed had never been overly critical of her before. She picked up her food, put it on a plate, and walked out of the kitchen right past him "Hey, don't I get one?" Ed objected, looking surprised as she sat down and began to eat.

Winry didn't even look in his direction. "Men who criticize make their own food." Ethan wisely had his mouth full and said nothing. Winry couldn't see Ed's reaction, but he was sure there was frowning involved, and likely him trying to quash his temper. If he had been going to lose it, he would have already. The air behind her almost seemed to warm.

"You don't have to get so defensive about it," Ed finally replied, sounding disgruntled. Then she heard him cross the kitchen and start making his own food, mumbling under his breath. "It'd be nice if you left something for the rest of us," he complained after a minute.

Winry just rolled her eyes, and Ethan looked sheepish. "That was me, Dad," he came to her defense.

"Well it'd help if you remembered your manners," Ed growled. Ethan didn't seem particularly fazed, but the attitude was really getting on Winry's nerves.

"It would help if you remembered _yours_," she snapped.

Ed appeared to her right and sat down at the other end of the table in his usual spot. "Fine. Would you _please_ kindly remember that you're not the only person who eats in this house?" He bit into his sandwich. Winry noted Ed was the only one with only a single sandwich on his plate. Though she was sure there was enough in the kitchen for a second.

"You can have more," she offered, despite the fact that her headache was pulsing and what she really wanted to do was smack him for acting stupid. "It's not rationed."

"Well maybe if it was there wouldn't be a problem," Ed countered.

"That's enough," Winry glared at him down the length of the table. "If you've got something you want to say, Edward, than do it. I'm sick of this inference song and dance routine."

"Is this about the robe thing?" Ed frowned in confusion. "You're so touchy. It was just a comment."

"Is that how you talk to your subordinates, Edward?" Winry really wanted to know, "Because I'm not one of them, and I don't have to salute and agree with you or take your criticism."

"Who ever said you did?" Ed asked, standing up. "Look, if you don't want to than just say no. I'm sorry I asked. Excuse me, I've lost my appetite." With that he turned and just walked out of the room.

Winry watched him go and her heart sank. She was still mad, but that hadn't been the reaction she expected either. Usually, she knew how to read Ed and what he was going to do. Right now, she just wasn't sure what to make of him.

* * *

Now how the hell had _that_ gone wrong? All Ed had wanted to do was see if Winry wanted to do something with him. He had suggested working out because he knew she enjoyed being outside in the fall and, well, while he was working back up to his usual level it would be nice to have someone along to keep him company. He'd felt bad about turning her ideas down too.

But when he tried, she turned it back on him and got defensive. Well fine, if that was how she wanted it, Ed didn't see much point in staying home even another week. He wasn't going to relax at home. Headquarters was waiting whenever he wanted to go back and tomorrow seemed like a good time.

Ed grabbed his jacket and pulled it on over his running clothes as he headed out the front door. He didn't really care that the sweat was barely dried underneath it. He'd pushed himself earlier and he was pretty pleased with the results. It felt good to get out and be active. Why didn't Winry want to share that with him?

He hadn't meant to make her upset. Once more his mouth had betrayed him. It was definitely time to get back into something he was good at; that he didn't have to think about to get right. But for the rest of today, he would find something else productive to do, or at least distracting. Briefly Ed wondered if maybe Alphonse wanted to do something, but he immediately decided not to bother his brother. Al didn't want to hear Ed gripe about how moody Winry was lately.

Instead, Ed headed in the general direction of downtown. Maybe Brewster or one of the other guys would be interested in doing something this afternoon. It would give Winry time to cool down, and they could both just get over it and pretend it never happened.

* * *

It was a beautiful evening and the sunset over the red and gold leaves of the trees outside the restaurant window was so perfect it could have been painted. Sara could have remained captivated by it until full dark if it weren't for the easily distracting smile of Franz sitting across from her.

It wasn't the first time Sara had been in this particular restaurant, but it was a rare occurrence. It was one of the nicer places in Central. Sara had been surprised when Franz told her the venue for tonight's date, but he had insisted that her promotion to Colonel deserved a _proper_ celebratory event!

Given how much she liked the place – and Franz – Sara hadn't taken much convincing. Though she had found it a little odd to get properly dressed up in an actual dress instead of her uniform. She had taken longer getting ready than usual, and Franz had chuckled as he watched her primp in the mirror.

"If I'm going out in polite society, I should at least look like I belong there," Sara had replied with a roll of her eyes.

Now she was glad she had gone to the effort. Despite Franz's teasing, he obviously appreciated the outcome. Sara didn't dress up very often after all. At least not in any way she might consider feminine; for her _dress_ usually meant_ uniform._

But Franz never seemed to take his eyes off of her. At least, not after they had ordered wine and food. When the wine came, he toasted her with a grin. "To the loveliest Colonel Amestris is ever likely to see."

Sara chuckled and sipped. "I think I'd rather be the most efficient or qualified or something," she admitted afterwards.

Franz laughed quietly. "You may well be both of those as well, Belle. Though I think you'll disagree with me when I say dinner's not nearly enough of a congratulation." He began to fish in his pocket.

"You're right," Sara agreed. "I think this is _more _than enough."

"Well I got you a little something anyway," Franz laughed as he finally managed to pull the item in question out and held it out.

Sara's heart nearly stopped. It was a small golden ring, simple enough, save for the fact that set low in the center was a nicely sized, deep blue sapphire with a small diamond set on either side of it. She was about to open her mouth to thank him when Sara caught the look in Franz's eyes, and the words died on her lips. "Is that…"

Franz nodded, grinning as he caught her left hand up in his before she could sit back. "It is."

"Are you—?"

"I am." His expression softened. "We've known each other for over eleven years, Sara. We've been comrades in arms, pen pals, friends, and lovers. Through-out all of that you've always been there when I needed someone. You never let your emotions or your needs get in the way of my happiness, and I tried to do the same for you. The truth of it is – we both failed, and I've never been so glad of failing in all my life." His dark eyes held her gaze, and Sara thought her heart might explode it was pounding so hard in her chest. "This past year I learned something important. I'm not complete without you, and I haven't been for a long time. You're an incredible person and I'd be a fool to let you slip away. Sara, please tell me you'll do me the honor of becoming my wife."

She didn't squeal loudly in the restaurant, though only through sheer strength of will. Sara did, however, lean over the small two person table and pull Franz across by his tie and give him a _very_ affirmative kiss! "Nothing would make me happier," she assured him as he slipped the ring onto her hand. The entire world seemed to be whirling as she looked at it; absorbing the reality of the fact that she was _engaged_ to the man she had been dreaming about for over a decade. "It's absolutely beautiful."

"I had them inset so that you could wear it with your uniform," Franz admitted with a chuckle. "It won't catch on anything."

Sara laughed. "Practicality and beauty, I like it."

"So do I," Franz smiled and Sara flushed again. He wasn't referring to the ring.

"Do I want to know what you paid for this?" Sara asked as they waited for their food.

The never-fading grin on her fiancé's face grew cheeky. "Half the money I saved this year by not taking you out on dates."

Sara shook her head. "And what did you do with the other half?" she teased.

Franz shrugged. "Hey, I didn't say _I_ didn't go out to eat!"

"Oh, you!" Sara swatted his arm in revenge. "Should I be checking around to find out if you were busy while I was gone?"

"If you like," Franz replied, catching her hand in his again before she could pull back. "I think you'll find I've been subversively planning_ this_ romantic evening for months."

"Well you did a very good job," Sara admitted. She felt like she was floating, or glowing, or _both_. She had known that he might propose at some point from the tone of his letters, but she had never expected anything so soon! "You definitely surprised me."

:"That was the hope," Franz was obviously pleased that he had actually managed to catch her off guard. He looked as deliriously happy as Sara felt, and she almost wished they could just skip dinner and go someplace more private, but she was hungry too and it would be a shame to waste all that effort. "I'm glad you're home, Sara. I was terrified that I'd wake up one morning and find that I had lost you."

"Well I've got news for you," Sara beamed back at him. "From here on out you can wake up and_ find_ me instead."

**November 1****st****, 1952**

There had been times when Edward hated the feel of Central Headquarters, but today it was almost like returning to the home of an old friend. After a year in it, his uniform felt surprisingly comfortable, and he had figured that on his first day back he should probably go ahead and look official.

He got a very surprised look from Miriam Golan when he offered to take the lecture that day on transmutation of silicates, but she wasn't about to say no. The class wasn't until the afternoon, so Ed spent the morning getting brought up to speed on the paperwork and where the students currently were in the year. It wasn't that far off from where Ed had left things last year. Having done this for over two decades now, getting back into the routine wasn't all that difficult.

The people who seemed the most stunned to see him were Feury, Falman, and Breda when Ed went up to Breda's office just before lunch.

"What are you doing here, Ed?" Feury asked, looking up at him in surprise.

"Well that's a nice greeting," Ed smirked.

Feury shook his head and shrugged. "I just figured you'd take all that available leave and run with it."

"I know I would have," Falman chuckled. "Sciezka and I would be on some exotic vacation."

Feury grinned. "That would be nice. I don't know how you do it, Ed."

"Duty calls," Ed shrugged flippantly. The office hadn't changed much; not that military offices ever really seemed to. Same faces, same desks, same filing cabinets. He was both glad and a little disappointed that there was no box of pastries where he knew there hadn't been one in a couple of years.

Falman smirked. "So loyal you'd skip out on leave? Havoc would be ashamed," he joked.

"Probably," Ed replied. The comment caught him off guard though. Yeah, Jean Havoc would probably have laughed at him and shoved him right back out the door. While Ed didn't say anything, he suspected Maes Hughes would have done that too. Ed missed them both, but he was kind of glad that Feury and Falman weren't likely to do the same thing.

"Well if you insist on reporting in," Feury grinned, "Breda's actually in at the moment and there's no one in there."

"Great," Ed moved past them and knocked on the door. When he heard an affirmative from the other side he opened it and went in.

Breda looked even more surprised that Feury and Falman had. "Ed? What are you doing here?"

"Geez, no one around here wants to see me," Ed put in his best mock-offended look, though he was obviously not really upset. "You sure you didn't send me out of the country to get rid of me?"

Fortunately Breda got the joke. He smirked. "Damn, you figured out our sure-fire plan for lowering the stress levels at Headquarters."

"Well it wasn't so sure-fire apparently was it?" Ed chuckled, "'Cause I'm still here."

"No it wasn't," Breda agreed. "So, what can I do for you?"

"More like the other way around," Ed replied with a shrug. "I wanted to let you know I'm back on duty, with your permission of course." Breda was his only superior officer.

The President frowned. "It's only been a week. Are you sure?"

A week of funerals, meaningless celebration, and awkward silence; Ed nodded. "I'm sure. Winry's going back to work soon with her ankle almost healed and there's no reason for me to hang around the house with nothing to do during the day is there?"

"Well, I suppose not," Breda looked reluctant, but he didn't argue. Finally he shrugged. "Sure, why not. You checked out okay on Friday. Just take it easy. The last thing I need is Doctor Gray yelling at me about someone_ else's _health on top of my own."

Ed chuckled. "Don't worry. I have no intention of doing anything that's likely to set me back again."

"Glad to hear it," Breda smiled. "Welcome back. Oh, and Ed,"

In the middle of turning to leave, Ed paused and turned around. "What?"

"Stop by the Mess and eat something," Breda smirked. "You look underfed."

Ed snorted and smirked even as he shook his head. "Well why do you suppose that is?"

* * *

Winry tried to focus on the auto-mail in front of her, but finally she just gave up. It had been like that all morning. She would start a project only to find her mind wandering or tears blurring her vision. She couldn't concentrate, so she went back into the living room and curled up on the couch. Maybe there was something worth reading in the news. Not that she really saw what was in front of her on the page either. Her mind kept going back to that morning's realization that Ed wasn't home and he hadn't even bothered to tell her where he was going.

It was Ethan, as usual, who knew where he was and had looked confused when Winry asked where Edward had gone. "He left this morning in uniform," Ethan had replied. "He said he had some work he needed to do at Headquarters."

"Oh, thank you." Winry hadn't said anything else on the subject and Ethan had headed off to school. She didn't really want to get into that particular discussion with her son. Ethan already seemed puzzled and concerned by the awkwardness in the house lately, though Winry knew he understood that things would take a little time for everyone to readjust to normal life. Winry just wished Ed would try a little harder.

She was still sitting on the couch, beginning to contemplate lunch, when there was a knock at the front door. When Winry didn't move immediately she heard a key in the lock. It was too early for Ethan to be home from school, so it was probably Ed. She didn't bother to get up.

"Hello," Sara's voice came from the hallway. "Anybody home?"

"In here," Winry replied, a little surprised but pleased. She hadn't seen a lot of her daughter in the past week – and less for a year.

Sara came into the living room, looking reasonably more comfortable in civilian clothes than she had last week. "Hi," she smiled. "I was hoping you were here. I didn't see the car though."

"Your father went to work this morning," Winry replied flatly.

Sara blinked, startled. "He did? That's weird."

"It must have been important," Winry shrugged. It had _better_ have been important.

"Probably," Sara nodded, though she didn't look entirely convinced. Now she looked torn. After a moment, she shrugged. "I really wanted him to be here too, but I guess you get the good news first," she smiled.

"What's that?" Winry asked curiously. She could use some good news.

Sara's smile broadened as she held up her left hand, fingers up, the back of her hand to Winry. The reason for her daughter's grin was immediately evident.

"Franz proposed?" Winry gasped, a smile coming to her own face as Sara nodded excitedly.

"He did!" Sara hugged Winry tightly in a rare moment of mother-daughter squealing. "Last night."

"Congratulations, honey," Winry hugged her daughter back, nearly as excited. "And it's about time that boy got around to it!"

Sara chuckled. "That was his thought on it too," she admitted.

"As well he should." Winry couldn't help but be happy seeing the joy on her daughter's face. "And I'm sure Ed will be thrilled to hear it," she added. At least she was still certain of that. He had griped about their practically living together in the privacy of the house last year, though he had been surprisingly good at letting Sara live her own life.

"I think so too," Sara agreed as they parted and she sat down on the couch. "He can finally stop being over-protective."

"Well, that might never stop," Winry warned with a soft chuckle, sitting back down. "Fathers are like that."

Sara nodded and her expression turned thoughtful. "Mom, I have to admit I've wondered something. Why is it that Franz and I, well,_ getting together,_ didn't bother you as much as Aldon and Cassie did?"

That _was_ a good question, and one Winry had contemplated herself for quite some time. "For a few reasons, I think," Winry shrugged. "The primary one being that both of you are a good bit older than Aldon and Cassie were. You're both more experienced and mature and know what you want. And, frankly, you're a soldier. Like it or not, you're no more typical of girls than I am," Winry chuckled. "I didn't_ like_ it, but it's your life and you're happy. It also helps that you're more careful."

Her words seemed to relieve Sara, though her daughter gave her a suspicious look. "Experienced?"

Had she let that one slip? Apparently so. Winry smiled. "Don't play coy, Sara. Your father may be oblivious sometimes, but even I know Franz isn't your first. I don't think you want me to verify how much more I know than that." Winry wasn't nosy, but she listened. Especially to Ed when he was thinking out loud about things that bothered him. She was observant too, but she valued her daughter's privacy. If Sara had chosen not to tell them something after she turned eighteen, well that was her own business.

Sara's face flushed. "You're right," she nodded. "I… wow. But Dad has no idea?"

"If he did do you think the boy would still be alive?" Winry asked with a knowing look.

"Good point," Sara smiled and relaxed again. "I always knew you were probably the coolest mother ever, but I really would have figured _you_ to kill me – or any guy – even before Dad."

"Like I said," Winry replied, "It's your life. I'm just glad you've found someone who makes you happy and who realizes just how lucky he is. Franz is a great guy."

"Of course he is," Sara smirked.

Despite the occasional awkwardness with Ed being one of Franz' superiors, Winry had always felt that the young man fit in well with the family already. "He's dependable, patient, polite," Winry nodded. _All the things Ed sometimes forgets to be._

"Don't forget good looking," Sara chuckled. "We haven't set a date yet. Right now everything's so chaotic that we figured maybe we should just let things settle down a bit first."

"That sounds sensible," Winry agreed. "There's no rush after all."

"I hope Dad feels that way," Sara replied. "He gets impatient sometimes."

"I'll take care of him," Winry promised. She didn't think it would be a big deal. "Though you should definitely be sure to tell him first thing this evening. Do you want to stay for lunch?" It wasn't as if Winry was getting anything accomplished this afternoon, and these mother-daughter heart to heart talks were rare and welcome. It was nice to be able to talk to Sara as two grown women. It was definitely better than the arguing they had done when she was a teenager.

"I'd love to," Sara said.

* * *

Edward had a surprisingly relaxing day given how much he accomplished. He got caught up on paperwork and reviewed the files of the new students so he could get familiar with them and where they were to this point. Then he spent an hour in the War Room with Breda and Brahm discussing the fighting still going on between the border and Bueáire. Ed wasn't that familiar with that area, but he was also able to give them some details about the route he and Al had taken – the people, the political atmosphere, and the towns and terrain – that would hopefully be helpful. Roy wasn't in at the moment because it was the time of day he normally lectured over at the University. Ed was glad to know his suggestion had worked out so well with that. Apparently lecturing suited Roy well.

Ed joined one of the sparring sessions that afternoon with the State Alchemists. It wasn't alchemy combat, but that was for the best anyway. He got in a good workout without the stress of worrying about winning or losing, and worked until he was tired. They were glad to see him and it was with regret that Ed went home on time.

The evening held one more pleasant surprise. When he got home he found Sara and Winry had put together a nice dinner. Franz showed up too, and Ed got the news that they were getting married _finally. _That was definitely good news! They stayed late into the evening, only leaving when Ethan vacated to the bedroom to do his homework.

"I must have passed him three times today and never even suspected," Ed chuckled, referring to Franz, as he washed the dishes after their dinner guests had left.

"Well now you know," Winry replied as she put the leftovers in the refrigerator. There was a pause. "Why didn't you tell me you were going back to work?" She asked quietly.

Ed looked up and saw that Winry was watching him with an odd expression. "What are you upset about? You made it abundantly clear you didn't want me hanging around the house anymore," he replied, his good mood evaporating. Of course she would want to argue about something.

"I didn't say that," Winry countered.

Ed shrugged, irritated. "You know me; I'm more of an actions kind of guy."

"Yes, I'd noticed. And your actions say pretty clearly you don't give a damn about my feelings." Tears began to run slowly from her cheeks.

Oh great, now she was crying. "And yours do about mine?" Ed turned abruptly, leaving the last dishes in the sink "The _only_ thing I could count on was that you were somewhere safe, and I found out the hard way that you were out in the thick of it where you could have been killed. You almost were!"

"So were you," Winry countered, "_Repeatedly_ and there was _nothing_ making me stay home, not even you. You promised me that years ago."

"Well it was a stupid promise," Ed grumbled turning back to the sink and finishing the dishes.

"Was it?" Winry asked softly, not about to leave it there. "I was able to do a lot of good out there, Edward. Of course it's dangerous. It was a war. Do you really think I didn't know what I was getting into?" She put a hand on his arm and Ed turned to look at her. "I _saved_ people, Ed. I helped soldiers and women and_ children._ I gave them new limbs and bandaged their existing ones. I gave them a chance to live a whole life! It felt good. I felt like I was finally _doing_ something. How could I deny them help just because you _need me_ to stay at home?"

There was a fire to her that startled Ed. All he had wanted was to keep his family safe, but Winry didn't seem to care about that. "I wanted to protect you," he replied, though it sounded lame to him, which only made him angrier.

"I don't_ need_ protection," Winry objected furiously, though her tone grew more intense as it got a little louder. "And I'm not here just to make you feel good. What, you're not strong enough to stand on your own legs anymore?"

The words dug into a wound that Ed had thought long closed. "So because _you _feel you're not being useful you just_ run off?_" He didn't know why, but this defiance in her scared him in a way it never had before.

"Says the man who does it all the time," Winry countered, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "My parents were doctors in a war. Why shouldn't I offer the same care that they did?"

"And they died!"

"People die, Edward!" Winry exclaimed. "My parents were _executed. _If you go by that logic I'm no safer in Central than anywhere else. You and I have _both_ almost died before. It's the life we live. It's a life_ you chose._ Well I get to make my choices too. Or do you really think I enjoy sitting at home in a half-empty house _devotedly praying for your safe return_?"

"Damn it, Winry!" He didn't want to fight with her. Okay, so part of him didn't. The rest had no interest in keeping his temper when she wasn't going to do the same. "What's wrong with wanting to take care of my family?"

"You have to _be here_ to do that," Winry replied pointedly. "I'm sorry you're feeling insecure, Ed, and I know this was tough on you, but it was tough on me too. I held other people's _dying children_, but I'm still not sorry I went. I want to be here for you, but it's got to go both ways this time. I'm tired of offering sympathy and understanding up a one way street."

"You want me to be here? Well I'm here now," Ed pointed out. What was her problem? There was something he just couldn't wrap his mind around, and that bothered him.

"Only when you feel like it," Winry shook her head. "What about today? You didn't even ask my opinion."

"Are we back to harping on that?" Ed scowled._ Screw this! _He pushed past her and pulled a glass out of the cabinet. All the arguing was drying out his mouth.

"Harping? I wouldn't have to bring it up at all if you'd just consider someone besides yourself," Winry retorted, turning to follow him. "You're the one who _volunteered_ to go off on a mission with minimal contact that would last for months at the shortest and ended up taking a year; a mission into a war zone that was guaranteed to see combat. You always lead from the front and do things that could get you killed, and that's what almost happened… again. What good are you to your family if you're not here?"

Just because Ed had asked himself that same question didn't mean he liked hearing it from someone else; especially not as an accusation from Winry. "I had to go."

"No you didn't," Winry called him on it. All right, so he didn't believe that anymore, but he _had then_. "I just want you to stay home this time, the way I've asked you to for the past twenty years. Is that so difficult?"

"And if there's another conflict?" Ed opened a bottle and filled the glass.

"Stay home."

"And let people die?" Ed couldn't imagine her believing that.

Winry shook her head. "The _world _isn't your responsibility Edward. There are plenty of other people who can do those jobs."

If she was trying to hit every painful point of guilt he had, she was hitting nothing but bulls-eyes. Ed knew this only too well. But if he could be replaced, what purpose did he really serve? He wasn't so sure anymore. "Not the way I do," he replied, but the steam had gone out of his argument.

"That might be a good thing," Winry sighed, pushing her bangs out of her face. There was still a little puzzled frown on her face. "When did you start drinking again anyway?"

Yeah, she really was going to poke him anywhere she could tonight wasn't she? "In Bueáire; there was a _surprise attack_," Ed retorted, taking a sip.

Winry's eyes went wide at his choice of words and she clamped her mouth shut. There was no way she missed the reference. That was what they had told Winry had happened to her parents. The truth was, of course, a very different story. It was a low blow to compare her shouting at him to what Roy had done to her parents, but Ed wasn't feeling particularly magnanimous this evening. He upended the glass and downed it in one long swallow, partially out of spite, and refilled it. The bottle of good rum had been in the cabinet for a few years now. It seemed a good time to break into it, so why not?

Winry finally found her voice. "Ed, there are other ways to cope…"

"Look!" Ed shoved his finger in her face, cutting her off. He really wasn't in the mood for a needless lecture. "This _isn't_ the Xing War, Winry. I haven't been tortured near to death. I'm not _broken._ I just feel like having a drink. I don't get why you're making such a big deal out of it."

Maybe he'd over reacted a little. "Sorry I mentioned it." Winry backed off, looking concerned and hurt. "I'm going to bed." Then she turned and walked out of the room without another word.

"Good night." Ed watched her go, but he didn't try to stop her. He felt immediately bad about fighting with her, but his temper went off so easily these days. He never caught it until it was far too late. It didn't help that she was right, of course. Winry usually was. Trying to apologize right now wouldn't help. She probably wouldn't believe him, and he wouldn't blame her. Besides, even he knew he would just be trying to placate the situation. Ed finished his second drink and put the bottle away. He should get some sleep and cool off. There was always tomorrow to try and fix things.


	2. Determining the Composition 2

**November 14****th****, 1952**

The wedding of Maes Mustang and Elena Albaracan was not a large one, but it _was_ elegantly appointed and well attended, primarily by friends of the Mustang family, and some of the friends that Elena had kept in contact with from high school as well who knew her. The school crowd usually knew both of them. The wedding and reception were in the Officer's Club.

Maes wore his dress uniform, of course, and Elena a simple, floor-length strapless gown of cream silk, thinly edged at the top and the hem in the same deep blue. It set off the warmth of her skin and dark hair beautifully, and it was no wonder that the groom couldn't keep his eyes off of his new bride.

Edward had to admit he was a little jealous as he watched Maes and Elena take the first dance on the floor during the reception. Eyes locked on each other, both beaming with happiness, it was clear that anything in the world beyond each other in that moment might as well not exist. Ed could remember that he used to feel that way, but it was startling to realize that he had trouble recalling the exact feeling itself. He had congratulated them with smiles and handshakes like everyone else there, but then Ed relegated himself to the sidelines, standing nearer the 'older crowd' while Sara, Franz, and the younger generation took the floor as soon as the obligatory first dance was done and the band picked up the pace.

Ed was perfectly content to just watch them dance as he occasionally nibbled hors d'oeuvres and sipped a glass of wine. Sara and Franz looked almost as happy, and Ed suspected he only put them at almost because it was awfully hard to be happier than the couple whose wedding day it actually was! Their day would come soon enough and he was glad that Franz had finally gotten around to asking.

By the third dance it wasn't just the younger folks. Though Ed did spot Alyse dancing with a couple of different boys, and Al watching disapprovingly from the sidelines when he and Elicia weren't dancing. Roy and Riza danced, as did Heymans and Nancy. Most everyone was coupled off.

If her ankle had been up to it, Ed would have been tempted to ask Winry to dance even though he really didn't feel like it. She loved it when he did though. Ed glanced across the room to where Winry was completely caught up in conversation. They had come together, but he suspected that what she was actually enjoying was the chance to be out and socialize, and that didn't include him.

"So what do you think?" Roy asked, coming up beside him.

Ed looked in the direction Roy was gesturing and saw Maes and Elena, now off to the side, still completely locked in on each other. "I think you'll be a grandfather inside a year," Ed teased. "Hopefully Maes will be able to pull himself away from her long enough to remember to report in to work."

Roy laughed and sipped from his glass. "Riza thinks the same thing; at least the first part."

"Celebrating?" Ed asked, noting that it was wine like everyone else's.

Roy chuckled. "My son comes home from the war in one piece and with a promotion and a fantastic bride no less. What's not to celebrate?" He shrugged. "Besides, the warden gave me a day off for good behavior." He meant Riza of course. It also told Ed information he didn't get through the usual gossip-from-Riza-and-others-to-Winry chain. It had been over a year and a half since Roy retired and he was obviously doing a lot better, though he was still careful. That was a good thing.

"Good behavior huh? There's a first," Ed ribbed him.

"I guess that still puts me a step ahead of you then," Roy retorted before someone called his name and he stepped away.

Ed sipped his wine and went back to watching everyone celebrating around him. In his mind he remembered arguments and he remembered the sounds of a thousand men dying as they were buried alive under a landslide of dirt. _You have no idea, Mustang. You really have no idea._

* * *

Winry was definitely enjoying herself more than she had in a while. She was glad to see Maes and Elena so happy, and Roy and Riza too now that their son was finally married and his career mended.

Still, she wished Edward wanted to spend more time with her. Or at least, spend time the way that they used to. For the last two weeks spending time together usually involved necessary chores, meals, and almost always one or the other of them would say something that set the other off. They weren't all explosive fights but it made Winry reluctant to try and start conversation.

It didn't help that Ed kept glancing her direction all afternoon and into the evening. He looked like he wanted to dance maybe, or at least talk, so why didn't he just come over? It might just be Winry's imagination getting her hopes up. As the evening went on though, his expression seemed to lighten. He stopped scowling as much and she hoped he was enjoying himself. When he was in a good mood he was much easier to live with and that was a rare occurrence these days.

"Hey Winry, would you like to dance?"

Winry turned, realizing only a moment too late that the familiar voice belonged to a different Elric. She smiled weakly. "Hi, Alphonse. Sure, I'd love to."

"Unless you've already got a partner," Al commented meaningfully, a small look of concern flashing on his face at her reaction.

"Oh, no," Winry shook her head. "Not at the moment. Though I hope you don't mind the fact that I'm still a little slow."

"That's all right, it's a slow dance," Al chuckled, offering his hand. Together they moved out onto the dance floor. Winry moved gently, but was glad to find that at least on a slow waltz she could move without limping. It was nice to dance and she appreciated Al's offer. She just wished it was the _other_ Elric brother who had asked first.

* * *

Edward couldn't keep his eyes off Winry when he saw Al escort her out onto the dance floor. Immediately he felt another twinge. She could dance. If he had known that… well he _probably_ would have asked her first. At least it was Al and not someone he needed to worry about hitting on his wife.

Winry really was beautiful. The older they got, the more he appreciated how well she had aged. She always took good care of herself, and she never looked cheap or overdone. Her movements were smooth too, and the way her hips swayed as she danced – it was impossible to forget why she had always drawn his attention!

By the time Winry left the dance floor several minutes later, Ed was deep in thought, wondering if maybe tonight he could rekindle some of the romance they seemed to have lost.

* * *

The car was quiet on the way home. Winry was relieved that Edward seemed to be in a reasonably good mood though. He was quiet but not brooding, and every once in a while he would glance at her sideways and she thought she saw a smile in his eyes even though it never touched the rest of his expression.

Not that anything happened until they got home and Ethan had gone to his room. Winry hung up her coat and slipped off her shoes. A cup of tea might be nice before bed. She was only a few steps towards the kitchen when a hand caught hers. She turned around to find Ed watching her intently with a surprisingly gentle expression of longing that Winry found achingly familiar. He hadn't looked at her like that since before he left for the war.

Ed pulled her closer and Winry didn't resist as he pressed his lips against hers and wrapped his arms around her body. It was a gentle kiss at first, warm and tender, sweetened with the lingering taste of wine.

It had been so long since he had kissed her like that. Heck, they hadn't _kissed_ aside from the occasional peck since before he left for Aerugo. Winry leaned into him, enjoying the familiarity of it as the kiss deepened and Ed leaned in, pinning her gently against the wall.

Apparently encouraged, Ed pressed the entire length of his body against her, one hand braced against the wall level with their heads as his preferred outcome became evident. His other hand worked its way around between her back and the wall and deftly began undoing the buttons on the back of her dress.

As her mind absorbed where this was going, Winry's mood came to a sudden screeching _halt_. She couldn't have explained why, but she wasn't interested in going there tonight. The gentle kissing and a little cuddling would have been perfect. "Ed, please no," she asked as she broke the kiss. "Not tonight."

His golden eyes expressed his surprise and displeasure with perfect clarity. "Why not?" He tried to kiss her again, but Winry pushed him back gently with the palms of her hands.

"Because I'd rather not," Winry replied a little more forcefully. "I'm not in the mood."

"Bah," Ed shoved away from the wall with his left hand, glaring. "You're never in the mood anymore." He turned away.

"I didn't say we couldn't spend time together." Winry didn't want him to pull away from her again. Not when this was the most open he had been with her – pathetic as that might be – since their return. "What's wrong with just what we were doing?"

Ed ran one hand through his hair, one of those clear signs of irritation. "Because I thought maybe, finally… oh forget it!"

Winry reached out for him, laying one hand on his arm. "Edward! Can we please talk about this?"

"What's to talk about?" Ed shrugged. He looked like he was trying to play it off like no big deal, but his very stance and expression gave away that he was frustrated and angry even if he wasn't admitting it. "What's the excuse this time? Another headache?"

She knew he was hurt and confused. It was how he always reacted when he was upset and didn't know what to do. That didn't make it any less annoying. "I wasn't aware there had to be a reason other than that I don't feel like it," she replied, trying to keep her temper in check. She didn't know _why_ she didn't feel like it lately. It made her feel bad that any moment where she might be feeling sexually inclined never seemed to coincide with him being _home_, but it wasn't her fault! It was frustrating her at least as much as it frustrated him, if not more so.

Edward didn't seem to get that though. "Oh I don't know, maybe an explanation of _why_? I mean, am I doing something wrong? I don't remember this being all that complicated. You know: you, me, a bed, minimal clothing."

Okay, the sarcasm was just too much. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you," Winry snapped, shoving him backwards with one arm straight out to full length. "But there's an awful lot more to this than just physical attraction you know. If I'm not up for it then I'm _not._ It's not a choice I made and I don't have to lie there and _take_ it like some cheap whore!"

"As if anyone would pay for you with the abuse they'd get," Ed retorted snidely.

"And you had the gall to ask why I might not be in the mood." Winry couldn't believe he had actually said that! Even the urge to curl up and just snuggle in bed and fall asleep had evaporated. "If you're that desperate I'm sure you can find a way to deal with it _on your own_." She shoved past him then and hurried up the stairs while he was still staring after her with a stunned expression.

Probably because she'd never suggested he relieve his desires _himself_ before. Winry felt smug and regretful at the same time, but maybe the shock had made her point. Winry had no idea why she didn't want to have sex with her husband lately. Or rather, why she didn't respond the way she used to. It wasn't entirely a matter of _want._ Mentally she would be perfectly happy a lot of the time to have things the way they had been; to get back to a semblance of normal and curl up and lose herself in what used to be a wonderful and regular experience.

Or at least, that was what she kept telling herself. But her body just wasn't in synch with that anymore – or with _his_ apparently. Winry turned on the water and ran a steaming hot bath while she thought. She needed something to calm her down or she wouldn't be able to relax enough to sleep at all. The hot water and the sweet smell of the lotus and cherry blossom oil she added did their job as she stripped and slipped into the steaming liquid up to her neck, her hair piled up high on her head and clipped into place.

The one thing she just couldn't figure out was if the problem was her or him? Certainly she hadn't stopped being _attracted _to Edward; not physically. He obviously still felt the same way about her despite his semi-veiled criticisms about her figure that she still couldn't entirely understand the basis for. Those just pissed her off and made her feel unusually self-conscious. She was already frustrated enough with her weight fluctuating lately despite her efforts. No, the problem was definitely emotional. At least, she was fairly sure that was the case. Winry had been entirely into it until Ed had tried to push for more than just kiss and cuddle. It was the reassurance Winry wanted, the love and the reconnection – not the purely physical aspects that seemed to drive Ed lately. That seemed to be _all_ he wanted, and that in itself was a major turn off right now.

Winry wished she knew if that was the real reason her body physically shut down when Ed was obviously in the mood. The problem with the theory was that it did the same thing the occasions when she was actually mentally willing! The whole thing was just a confusing, frustrating muddle.

When the water cooled off, Winry got out and into her pajamas. Then she curled up on her half of the bed, trying to push it all from her mind for the time being. Even after sleeping alone for over a year the bed still felt too big to her without Ed in it, but she couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he came back and joined her. The nightmares still bothered him, but getting rid of those had lasted for a long time after the Xing War. He _still_ had nightmares occasionally even up until he'd left for Aerugo. Surely he didn't intend to keep sleeping in the guest room until they went away?

It was a surprisingly long time before Winry heard the door across the hallway open and close. She waited, but it didn't open again. He hadn't even tried to talk to her or apologize. Once, he would have. She briefly contemplated getting up and going across the hall, but she knew that if she did she was just as likely to start a fight again. She was still agitated even if he wasn't. Besides, it wasn't like he would notice that she hadn't made the attempt. He never gave thought to her feelings or motives at other times anymore after all, right?

Winry did her best to ignore the tears dampening her pillow as she tried to fall asleep. At least in her dreams she could have the relationship she remembered. Maybe tomorrow Ed would listen.

**November 18****th****, 1952**

Someday they were going to invent a machine that answered the phone for you, Ed grumbled to himself as he made his way downstairs. Or maybe he should just ask Winry to invent one. It sounded like it was right up her alley. "Hello? This had better be important," he said through a jaw-popping yawn.

"Oh I think you might agree that it is," Aldon replied, sounding just as tired though rather smug. In the background Ed heard crying and it definitely wasn't the cry of a toddler.

Ed's mood improved in an instant. "I think you're right. Congratulations! How's Cassie doing?"

"Just fine," Aldon chuckled. "Tired, but that's to be expected I guess isn't it?"

"Usually," Ed nodded. It was funny how the answers to questions in these situations were usually the obvious ones. "And you? I'm guessing you survived without passing out."

"Barely," Aldon admitted, sounding mildly embarrassed. Apparently he still got squeamish watching childbirth. "But we've got another healthy son out of it, so I'm not complaining."

Another boy; Ed couldn't say he was surprised. "Did you give the poor little guy a name?"

"Reichart – Art for short," Aldon said.

"I'll call him Art," Ed smirked. "Where do you get these names anyway?" Not that they were bad, just different.

"Cassie."

That really was all the explanation it took wasn't it? Ed shook his head in amusement. "Well give the whole family a hug for me."

"I will," Aldon replied, and Ed could practically hear him smiling into the phone. "I don't know how you were ever strong enough to go off and do what you had to and leave us behind sometimes, Dad," he admitted quietly after a moment. "I don't think I could do it."

"We all do what we have to," Ed replied, feeling tightness in his throat.

"Yeah," Aldon chuckled again a moment later. "I was thinking of heading down to the war. They needed Engineers, but Cassie had other plans obviously. She said if I left I'd be sleeping under my workbench for the rest of my life!"  
Ed laughed with him, but his son's words struck a chord. His son tossed off things like that so easily. It hadn't been hard for Aldon to stay home instead, despite knowing he could be useful. He hadn't questioned his decision for an instant; family came first and when his wife said _stay_ he just did it and was happy to do so.

There had been a time Ed had done that too, hadn't there? If Winry was right, than no, he never had. Had he been putting his family second this whole time and never realized it?

"Well, I should go," Aldon said after a minute. "Coran will probably be up soon and I can't wait to introduce him to his little brother! Talk to you soon, Dad. Tell Mom we love her and I'll call back in a little bit."

"I will," Ed replied as he heard the line go dead on the other end. He put down the receiver. It was barely six in the morning. It was probably better to let Winry sleep. Frankly he wanted to go back to bed too. He could get another hour in before he absolutely had to get up for work. But he didn't want to forget his promise either. Quickly he pulled out paper and a pen and wrote Winry a note telling her about the newest member of the family and what Aldon had said. Then he went back upstairs and slipped it under the bedroom door. With that done, he went back to his bed and curled up. It was still dark outside this late in the year up here, and the house was chilly. That made bed a pretty nice place to be, even if he was alone. He just tried not to think about the last part.

**November 21****st****, 1952**

It had been a difficult month for Alphonse, but tonight was his last night of leave before going back to work, and while he knew it would be a long time before he got over the guilt he felt about his actions during the war, and the nightmares that came with them, he was feeling much better. His sessions with the counselors had been productive and he was at least coming to accept what he had done.

Elicia was an angel about the whole thing. When he woke up suddenly in the middle of the night sweating or crying out, she cradled him and calmed his fears, hummed or sang or – if it helped – they made love. They did that more now than they ever had before, not that Al would admit that aloud to anyone!

He and Ed had started sparring again a few times a week, and it was good to talk without the stresses of being officers. When they were just brothers there seemed to be a lot less pressure. They fought less, at least as long as Al didn't pry and ask too many questions. That wasn't too difficult when Al was more than happy to talk instead, and it was nice to get them both ready to take on students again. Part of it was training them to fight for _practice_ again. The last thing Al wanted to do was accidentally injure someone because he forgot it was only a practice match.

Tonight they weren't sparring. In celebration of Al's going back, Ed had suggested they go out just the two of them, and hang out and play pool like they used to. It sounded like a fine idea to Al, and Elicia had encouraged it. Privately, Al suspected that as much as his wife loved him, she was getting a little tired of the constant closeness. That or she really wanted a_ night off_. Al was not offended. Elicia had been wonderfully patient and he didn't want to be more of a burden than he was sure he had been. Though Elicia had assured him that she didn't mind it.

Maybe a little time thinking about something other than Elicia would be good for him too! Al relaxed as they had a couple of beers, played pool, and just generally hung out.

"Hah, I won again," Ed smirked as he sank the eight ball to win the third game of pool they had played –and the third he had won.

"You're really on tonight," Al agreed, chuckling.

"They got new cues," Ed commented. "This one's a sweet thing," he cradled it in his arm as he picked up his drink.

"Should I tell Winry she's got competition?" Al teased.

The humor was lost as Ed's grin dropped into a scowl over his glass. "That's not funny, Alphonse."

"Sorry." Al hadn't meant it as anything more than a playful jibe. Surely they had done far worse to each other in the past. Still, it illustrated a point Al had contemplated bringing up. "Ed, is there something going on with you and Winry?"

"What makes you say that?" Ed asked as he finished off the last of the beverage.

Al shrugged. "I don't know really. It's mostly little things. You didn't dance with her at the wedding."

"I didn't realize her foot was better," Ed shrugged. He stood and went back to the pool table and started racking it up for the next game. "And you know I don't usually like dancing."

Al didn't point out that before they left for the war, Ed had actually started dancing with Winry a lot more, and he sure _looked_ like he was having a good time. "I guess maybe I'm just reading too much into things," he admitted after a moment. "But after the fight in Bueáire I was a little worried."

"That's old news," Ed scoffed as he bent over and lined up his first shot. "Winry's still here right? So obviously I over-reacted. You were right about what she meant."

"I'm glad to hear it." The words were a relief to hear. If Ed could admit it than he wasn't trying to ignore that it had happened. He seemed to have come to terms with the fact that he had misunderstood. Hopefully that meant they had talked about it. That was one load off of Al's mind.

"Forget us," Ed's grin turned wicked. "What about you and Elicia? Are you sure you can pry yourself out of bed to come back to work? You could always retire to a life of luxury with a gorgeous woman." He broke and balls scattered everywhere. Finally though, none went in.

Al rolled his eyes as he stood up and took his turn at the pool table. "I think Elicia's ready to get back to work too," he replied, though he suspected his ears had already turned pink. _Someday_ he was going to outgrow blushing. He just hoped it was before he turned eighty! Until then, he made a determined vow to manage it. "And she's getting a little tired of all the attention."

There was a momentary look in Ed's eyes that Al couldn't read, but a second later his brother was laughing. "That seems to be running rampant around Central these days. I pity the hospital staff next year."

Al chuckled. "Well _we_ certainly won't be adding to the chaos." Despite Elicia's teasing him when they first got back, the likelihood of them having any more kids was so low the worms couldn't find it, and they were careful anyway. The next kid Al wanted to see in his family was a grandchild… in _several _years. "Three in the corner." He took the shot and made it perfectly. Moving around the table he contemplated his next move. "Four in the side and ten in the corner." It was a tricky move, but he was fairly certain he could pull it off.

As the first ball went in, then the second, Ed grinned. "I may be in trouble after all."

"That's the idea," Al replied as he tried another difficult shot. This time he missed. He walked back to the table. "Water please," he told the waitress when she came over to refill his glass.

"Oh go ahead and have another one, Al," Ed scoffed as he lined up his next shot. "I'm driving."

"I've already had two," Al shook his head. "And I had a glass of wine with dinner," he admitted. "The last thing I want to do is risk showing up hung-over on my first day back." That would be a very bad idea. He was a little perplexed that Ed had even made the suggestion. "Besides, at this rate I may end up being the one driving anyway." Not unless Ed was switching over to water too.

"Please, I'm fine," Ed smirked, sinking his next shot perfectly. The cavalier attitude seemed, well, a little pushed; at least in Al's opinion.

"Ed, are you still seeing the counselors?" Al asked.

Ed rolled his eyes and shrugged, but he nodded. "Yes, I'm being a good little State Alchemist and reporting my psychological instability on a regular basis just like everyone else." He sank another shot then missed. "You worry too much, Al," he smirked as he sat down on the edge of the table and took a drink. "I didn't invite you out to have serious conversations you know," he chuckled. "I figured we should have a little fun before you get back to the grindstone."

"I am having fun," Al insisted. "You know me. It's my nature to worry about you." He grinned playfully, hoping to ease the mood again. He didn't want to fight with Ed. He just knew better than to take everything Ed said at face value. Observation and experience told him that something was wrong, but also that Ed wasn't lying outright. Maybe it was the same as with Al; Ed was still adjusting to being back in Central and dealing with the guilt that had plagued them for most of the war.

"Well stop it," Ed shoved in him in the shoulder and laughed. "You'll spoil the fun. It's your shot."

Al let it drop for now, but he made a note that at some point that he should talk to Winry and just… compare notes.

**November 25****th****, 1952**

It was almost more like a reunion than going back to work, Sara thought as she sat at her new desk in Brigadier General Kane's office. Thanks to the war there had been a little reshuffling of personnel to account for promotions, casualties, and discharges from the military for various reasons. The biggest effect it had on Sara was that now, as a Colonel, she was taking on a larger part of the duties that had been Kane's and was working _with_ him in handling the assignments for the alchemists under his command, as well as any other assignments that came their way that Breda thought should be handled by the talents in that particular office.

Kane had already been teaching Sara the job before they left, so really they were picking up where they left off and not a lot had changed other than that Kane was now in charge of _all _the lower ranking alchemists' assignments and assessments instead of just one group. Sara had the _pleasure_ of inheriting the responsibility of most of her co-workers.

That included Lieutenant Colonel Maes Mustang, whose desk was across from hers though he had yet to show up to work again. He was expected in today. Also included were Majors Torv Skald and Ragnar Arronson. Most of Kane's non-alchemist staff were still under him directly but now the staff took up several offices. Given that Sara had been friends with several of them for years as well, being back at work was pleasant.

The air had been festive in the office most of that first week. Very little work got done compared to how it usually ran, but no one seemed to mind. The only awkward hole in the enjoyment was the rather marked lack of the Whitewater Alchemist.

"He's supposed to have his auto-mail surgery in the next couple of weeks," Sara informed the office when asked. Her mother had mentioned it since that was one of the pieces she had most recently been working on.

"It's all about the therapy after that," Kane nodded. "The reports on his recovery aside from the leg have been good."

"Yeah, I hear he's harassing the nurses so bad they can't wait to let him out early," Maes laughed as he sauntered into the room, looking more relaxed than Sara had seen him in quite a while. Of course, she hadn't seen much of him this month since he'd disappeared on his honeymoon with Elena.

"Someone's in a good mood," Torv smirked as Maes dropped down into the chair in front of his desk.

"Read the grin," Ragnar chuckled. "Would you expect anything less with the beauty he just married?"

"Oh she's all right," Torv taunted. "Nothing on Laurie but I guess we can't all have the best."

"Say what you want," Maes shrugged, entirely unbothered by the exchange. "But mere words can't touch Elena."

It really _must_ have been a good honeymoon! Sara chuckled. "Welcome back to the real world, Mustang. You ready to do some work for once?"

"Of course, Colonel," Maes crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back as if he were getting ready to take a nap. "I'm always ready."

"Well good," Kane cut in before things got too chummy, "Because I've got some business to take care of first."

"What's the word?" Sara asked, turning to give him her full attention.

"The first is I thought you might all like a report on the Aerugo situation, given that we were all just there," Kane said with a knowing look at the alchemists in front of him. Almost every alchemist under Kane's direct command had been out there in one of the Divisions for the early part of the war.

"Oh yes, we're all just dying for news from our favorite vacation spot," Ragnar quipped, though he got quiet when Kane glared at him, then sighed and went on.

"It seems that things are quieting down along the northern half of the Corridor," he said, referring to the stretch from the border to Bueáire. That was what it was called on the map in the war room. "Though there are still some skirmishes in the middle and lower end. Bueáire itself is quiet thanks to the rather _blatant _military presence."

"And here I thought we were being subtle."

"Do you want a reprimand your first day back, Arronson?" Kane asked.

"No, Sir."

"Good. As I was saying, Bueáire is quiet as far as fighting goes. The politicians," he shrugged, "That's another story. It seems that there are representatives arriving daily from the different districts. The stretch the Eastern Division came through sent quite a collection as soon as word came," he added with a grin. "Apparently they left quite an impression with the locals."

"Let's hope it helps," Sara commented.

"Indeed." Kane shifted some papers in front of him. "The word this morning is that the Cretans are finally sending in a diplomatic envoy to Aerugo to see about working with us and Aerugo to hammer out some decent trade negotiations and get in good with the new government."

"Are those their words or yours, Sir?" Maes asked.

Kane shrugged. "They're Breda's. I'm just reading from the report here."

"At least they're going." Sara had been rather irritated herself when the new Cretan President had insisted they stay out of things. She missed when Argyros ran the country. Aside from being long standing family friends of the Elrics and Mustangs, he had been very active when it came to foreign policy.

"It's definitely an improvement. Would have been nice if they had been willing to send support in other ways of course," Kane snorted. Troops would have made the entire thing go much faster. Amestris couldn't commit their entire army at once of course. The idea that this could have been over already was enough, Sara knew, to annoy most anyone in the military if the subject came up.

"Anything else, Sir?" Torv asked.

Kane put his papers up and smiled. "Just one last bit of business. My wife and I are having a little get-together at our place next month. We wanted to invite you. Bring someone along of course," he added with a chuckle.

Dinner at Kane's house; that would be a first. Sara had never had the chance – aside from their late night conversations on the front – to really just talk with her superior officer, despite the fact he had been a friend and colleague of her father's for years. They got along well though, and she was looking forward to it. "That's nice of you," she commented.

"It's long overdue," Kane admitted, "And it was Rachel's idea. It seems I've been remiss in my duties as a superior officer. Inviting you over for food and cheap drinks is apparently in the job description somewhere and I missed it."

"I think I'm going to like your wife," Torv chuckled, his deep voice rumbling.

Sara couldn't help but think of a pair of yellow-duck covered shorts as Kane's grinned broadened. "Probably. I know I do."

**December 4****th****, 1952**

It was well past dark, though not that late in the evening, when Edward walked into the house. It had been a long day at HQ, but then that was the norm of late and the way Ed obviously preferred it. He had a full schedule of classes – lecture and otherwise – that kept him moving. Winry knew he was glad to be back in the combat training side of things. While the alchemists left in charge had done a commendable job, Ed really liked shaking the students up a few times and knocking the over-confident ones down a few notches. This, of course, she had found out from Alphonse, not Edward.

He was late for dinner. But he probably knew that already. Winry had pointed it out recently that he was home late at least four nights a week. There was a cold misting rain outside. Winry watched as Ed took his black military coat off as soon as he got inside and hung it up, remembering at the last minute to kick off his boots. She sat on the couch and watched Ed as he didn't even seem to notice her sitting there at first. Instead he strolled across the dining area and went into the kitchen.

Winry could count the seconds it took for him to get a glass out of the cabinet, pour himself a drink, and come back out. At the point where she knew he was putting the bottle back in the cabinet, she spoke. "So, what took so long?" she asked casually, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

"I had a meeting that ran late," Ed replied. Winry paused in the kitchen doorway as he sipped from his glass and turned, then nearly spat the entire mouthful on the floor when he saw her. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"

It was the reaction Winry had been expecting. "I cut it," she replied with a shrug. It fell to just barely below her shoulders now. "The weather in Aerugo really did a number on it. You don't like it?" She asked it as a question, but his face said clearly enough that he hated it.

"I liked it long," Ed scowled. "Why didn't you ask me about it?"

"Like the way you asked me about going to Aerugo?" Winry countered softly. What was his deal? Anytime something happened that he didn't like he got defensive. She took a deep breath and made herself stay calm. "It's my hair, Edward. I don't need your permission."

Apparently the hair wasn't the only thing that made him edgy. "Don't bring up Aerugo again," Ed glowered as he drank. Close up, Winry couldn't help but wonder just where this _meeting_ had been. She had learned to read Ed pretty well she thought over the years, and he didn't look like this was his first drink tonight. Given his behavior lately, she wished she could say she was surprised.

"Why not?" Winry asked. "You won't and you _should."_ If she couldn't get him to talk to her then she had no idea what else to do. "You didn't have a problem telling me about what they did to you when you were captured. So what's so wrong with this war that you won't talk about it? What's so horrible that you're _avoiding me?_ I'm trying to be here for you but I need you to open up a little and offer something back for this to work."

She knew she sounded like she was pleading, but that _was_ what she was doing. Every day she grew more concerned by his distance and his sullen quiet at home. Ed didn't even try to spend time with her or pretend interest now, and he hadn't mentioned maybe moving back into their room for a while.

Apparently pleading wasn't going to be an effective tactic either. "What do you _think _I did out there Winry? Went on picnics?" His tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Whatever you had to do," Winry replied softly. It was a war. She knew what that meant as well as anyone.

"Yeah," Ed snorted. Then, before Winry could react, he lost it and began talking quickly, his voice harsh and volume rising. "That included killing women and children when they got in the way; Al and me both. As if that's not bad enough," he crossed the room with surprising speed, looming despite their fairly even heights. "I buried over a thousand men alive under tons of earth. Do you really want to hear the details? It might as well be _me_ who killed your parents, Winry."

"It's not the same thing," Winry tried to object. Did he really feel that way?

"Yes it is," Ed replied. The glint in his eyes was wild; it frightened her. Winry couldn't recall being afraid of Ed before, but she didn't _know _that look. She had seen Ed angry hundreds of times, but this was different. "Hell, I couldn't even protect Al! I never wanted him to have to go through that hell. His injury was entirely my fault. I made a mistake and _he_ got shot."

"You _both _got shot," Winry corrected, feeling strength return to her spine as she shoved him back just enough that he wasn't right in her face. "Al's an adult, Ed, just like you. Just like me. He made his own decisions and I doubt he blames you for what happened."

"Whether he blames me or not, it's still my fault," Ed replied stubbornly. The waft from his breath was enough to assure Winry he'd had at least one drink on the way home – possibly more given how irrational he was. Ed wasn't exactly a light-weight when it came to tolerance.

Winry would have to keep her temper or this was just going to turn into even more of a fiasco. She wasn't sure how many more fights like this she could take. They happened too often. It wasn't a question of _if _anymore, just a matter of _when. _"Okay, so what if it was?" she replied. "It's over now. By some miracle you're still here to _feel_ guilty about it. That's something right?"

"It wasn't a miracle," Ed sneered derisively at the word. "It was alchemy. Hell, it only worked because I _couldn't_ concentrate enough to mess it up."

"Then it really _is_ a miracle you're still alive," Winry countered, folding her arms underneath her breasts, "Given how willingly you fling yourself into danger."

"You still haven't told me why you went and put _your_self at risk the way you did," Ed countered angrily.

What? "Of course I have!" She was sick and tired of this kind of behavior! "Haven't you been listening to me at all? I had to be true to myself, Edward! I've _never_ been good at staying home and waiting. That was Granny, not me. I can't just sit by knowing people are suffering any more than _you_ can and it's not fair that you're the one who charges off and makes these decisions without even asking me!"

"You sound like a broken record," Ed retorted, getting up in her face again. "It's always about what you don't get lately! So was it all about your own ego? Was it about saving people, Winry, or was it about _you_?"

This was _ridiculous._ "Did you ever think it could be both and still be valid? Granny asked you the same thing once. Do you remember? Has anything _really_ changed, Edward? Were _you_ out there for other people, or because you just can't stand to feel left out? You always have to get involved, don't you? But I'll tell you something, Edward Elric, mister _high and mighty Fullmetal Alchemist:_ the world can get through a war _without you!_ You _can_ be replaced. Other people can do those jobs just as well as you can if you'd give them the chance and just stay out of it for once!"

Maybe she had gone too far. Winry was sure she had never seen Ed's face turn that particular shade of purple. He looked like he was going to explode. Just as his mouth opened and she braced for the tirade –

-- She heard a small "ahem." Winry turned and saw Ethan standing on the other side of the living room near the entry way with his duffel bag over his shoulder and his winter coat and hat already on. "I've got a project I'm working on with Alyse tonight for history class. I figured I'd, you know, stay over there since we'll probably be working late. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn't worry."

Winry felt immediately ashamed. In her anger, she had completely forgotten that Ethan was still in the house. "Do you want a ride?" she offered, turning her back on Ed briefly so she didn't have to look at him. It was easier to calm down that way.

"No thanks," Ethan shook his head and offered her a weak smile. "It's not a long walk." Then he turned and vanished from view. A few moments later the door shut and she heard the lock click.

The look on her son's face when she turned around had been, well, Winry wasn't sure what to make of it. All she knew was that he couldn't have been comfortable walking in on their argument. They argued a lot lately too, but Ethan hadn't said a word in complaint. Not even on the days he came over in the afternoon and worked in the auto-mail shop, when they could have talked privately.

"Well that's just great," Ed grumbled.

Winry spun on her heel. "Shut up, Edward. I've had enough of your insolence and stupid, stubborn pride," she barked, eyes bright. So much for calm. "Don't tell me you don't think Ethan has noticed how lousy things have been around here." She hadn't noticed soon enough her son's unease and she should have. He was such a sweet kid. He was probably hiding his own discomfort for the sake of the family. Ed used to do that.

"So are you blaming me for _that_ to?" Ed shoved past her, dropping his glass on the table as he crossed the living room. "Fine. Than why don't you sit here and try nagging at the dog for a while instead! I'm going out."

For the second time in as many minutes, Winry heard the door open and shut, only this time with a resounding slam. The silence that followed was nearly deafening. Then there was a quiet sniffling sound.

It took Winry a moment to realize that it was her own sobs she was hearing. _Damn it!_ How was she supposed to fix someone who didn't want to be? How was she supposed to fix a problem when the lines of communication had apparently changed? Or maybe they had just gone down completely.

* * *

Dinner was over at Alphonse and Elicia's when Al heard the doorbell ring.

"I've got it!" Alyse said, bounding lightly off the couch and hurrying over to the door. "It's probably Ethan. We have a report to finish."

"All right," Elicia chuckled without getting up from where she was seated next to Gracia on the couch. It had been a pleasant family dinner. They had those a lot more often lately. As much as Gracia never complained, Al knew that she was finding it harder to live alone and take care of her house all by herself. Especially in the winter; her hands were getting a little arthritic and her knees too.

Al was perfectly happy not to get up from the chair he was ensconced in near the fireplace. He enjoyed having the family together, and the meals that always seemed to have an extra level of skill and perfection when Gracia, Elicia, and Alyse all worked magic in the kitchen at once. What was even better though was the fact that Will would be home from college for the Winter Break in a couple more days. Al had talked to him on the phone, but he hadn't had a chance to see his son in far too long.

Alyse and Ethan returned a moment later, and Al noticed the bag over Ethan's shoulder. "Don't tell me you need all of that for the report," Al smiled. You never knew with these kids though. Alyse and Ethan had always done rather elaborate things together given the opportunity.

"No, it's just my stuff," Ethan replied, looking uneasy. Al wondered why. "I was wondering if maybe I could stay here?"

"Of course you can spend the night," Elicia nodded. "There's no reason to make you walk home again in this weather. It's supposed to turn to snow by morning."

Ethan shifted on his feet before looking them all in the eye. "I meant, maybe for a few days? I don't know how long."

"What's wrong?" Al asked. He had never known Ethan to evade a question unless it had an unpleasant answer.

Ethan shrugged and flashed an obviously forced smile. "Nothing; I just figured maybe Mom and Dad could use a little time alone. You know, to talk things out without feeling uncomfortable about being overheard."

Now everyone looked concerned. "That's commendable, sweetie," Elicia finally replied slowly. "But I don't know if you want to spend that long on the couch. William will be home the day after tomorrow or I'd offer you his room."

"You can stay at my place," Gracia spoke up suddenly, almost over her daughter. "I certainly have room."

Ethan looked overly relieved. "Thanks, Aunt Gracia."

"It's no problem," Gracia reassured him. "You're very considerate to give your parents a little time to themselves. I'm sure they appreciate it."

"Yeah, sure," Ethan replied, though he didn't sound overly convinced. He looked at Alyse then. "Your room?"

Alyse nodded. "I've already got some of the report written up, but we need to finish the topographical layout of the battle for the demonstration."

The two teenagers went upstairs. When they were gone, Al frowned. "Do you know what's going on?" he asked the women. If anyone was getting information, it would be them from talking to Winry.

"I know they've been arguing," Elicia frowned. "But Winry didn't really want to talk about it so I didn't press."

Gracia shook her head. "We haven't discussed private matters much lately."

"I just can't imagine it getting bad enough that Ethan would want to leave." Or rather, Al could, but he really didn't want to. At work Ed acted mostly normal, and when they had them over, things were subdued but not unreasonable. Winry seemed all right for the most part too, as much as anyone was after their recent war experiences. Usually neither of them was that good at acting; at hiding their emotions. If something were seriously wrong, he would know wouldn't he? Or at least, surely his brother or best friend would say something to him about it.

Wouldn't they?

* * *

About half way back across town, Ed wished he had grabbed the coat when he shoved his boots back on. As it was, he hunched his shoulders in his uniform and kept walking. He didn't actually know where he was going. He just knew he couldn't take being in the house while Winry was awake.

Ed wouldn't be surprised if Winry hated him. Though Winry hadn't seen Ethan until she turned around, Ed had seen his son's expression when he first came out of his room. He had never seen Ethan look so down-hearted. Not even Lia's leaving had given him that hopeless look. He looked like he was giving up on something. Ed knew what that something probably was too. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt his family, and it seemed he had become amazingly proficient at hurting his wife and his kid. If Sara and Aldon had noticed anything amiss, they hadn't said a word.

The cold mist turned to a drizzle and it became a light snow by the time Ed found himself walking past the silent gates of Central Headquarters. He was starting to shiver. Part of him was tempted to just go back to the bar where he _had_ been talking the finer points of an alchemical transmutation with a couple of his students who had further questions. He hadn't lied about having a meeting, he just hadn't said where or with whom.

There was also plenty of work on his desk if he wanted it. After a moment's hesitation, Ed turned and slipped through the gates, heading back towards the building. If he was going to be miserable, he might as well be productive while he was at it.

**December 5****th****, 1952**

If Winry hadn't called him up, Alphonse would have sought her out anyway. To his relief, she beat him to the punch and asked him if he would meet her for lunch. They had done this particular dance before and Al suspected that he was finally going to get at least a little insight into what was going on.

He didn't have to wait. Winry was ready to ask questions. "Alphonse, when did Ed start drinking again? Was it… was it the war?"

And of course she would start with the difficult questions. "Sort of," Al admitted uneasily.

Her sharp eyed gaze seemed to bore into his head. "What do you mean, Al?" She obviously had a reason for asking this particular question first.

Al sighed. He hadn't discussed that night with Ed since it happened except in passing, and he had hoped never to have to mention it to Winry. "It was after you showed up. Ed misunderstood and thought you were leaving for good and he didn't take it very well." That was the best summary he could really give of the situation.

Winry shook her head. "I've told him that's not what I meant."

"The damage was already done, Winry," Al replied sympathetically. "But why ask about it now?" He had a hunch, but he didn't want to suppose anything.

"It worries me," Winry admitted. "After Jean Havoc died he just stopped. He never made a big deal out of it or anything; he just didn't drink anymore and I figured it was for the best. After all, we barely dodged that bullet after the Xing War."

There was something else behind Winry's eyes. She was trying to hide emotions but Al could tell she was hurting. She didn't look like she had been sleeping well and she had barely touched her food. "And now?" he prodded gently.

For nearly a solid minute, Winry said nothing. Al was beginning to think she had changed her mind when a single tear ran down her cheek. "It used to be, when Ed came home, he would come straight to me. It didn't matter what I was doing in the house or where, he'd come find me and see how I was and we'd talk. But now, he ignores me, Al. Half the time he just heads for the kitchen." The angry glint in her eyes made it clear that kitchen was synonymous with liquor cabinet. "I know I haven't been much easier to live with lately. I just needed to know if _that _was my fault."

"It's not your fault!" Al exclaimed. How could she even think that? Okay, well he saw how, but still. "Ed was under a lot of stress even before then. Sure his misunderstanding you was one reason, but there were a lot more on top of that. We did a lot of things neither one of us is proud of, and Ed takes those things really hard, you know that."

"I do," Winry nodded, tears falling more steadily. "That's why I've done everything I can think of to help him, Al. Last time he came home from a war I tried to leave him alone, to give him space and time to work things out, and it was nearly a disaster because I was afraid to confront him. Now I've tried reaching out, talking, being more insistent and pointing out the problem, but all I seem to be doing is driving him away instead. It's almost a complete reverse."

Helplessness was not a feeling Al enjoyed. "Winry, please don't cry. Maybe this time we _should_ try giving Ed a little room. You know, just for a few days and see what happens?"

"I guess," Winry wiped her nose with the napkin on the table and then dabbed at her eyes. She smiled weakly a moment later. "Thanks, Al. It's nice to know at least one of you still talks openly."

"We deal with stress differently," Al shrugged. "Ed still internalizes when he isn't a one-man explosion. Is he getting drunk a lot?"

"No," Winry admitted with a shake of her head. She sighed then and picked up her fork. "Maybe I am over-reacting on that. I just can't forget last time, but maybe I should give Ed a little more credit." She sounded skeptical, but it was better than nothing.

"I'm worried about him too," Al assured her. "But if we come on too strong, Ed's just going to resist any help we have to offer, no matter how good our intentions. At work he's grumpy, but he's productive and he's working really hard with the students. He's functional, so maybe he just needs more time." Al had actually double checked to make sure Ed was really still going to his counseling appointments. Not that he didn't trust Ed but he didn't always _trust _Ed. He was going, so that was something at least.

"Sure," Winry nodded. "I'll give it a try."

Al just hoped he was right. Yes, he was concerned about Ed, but his brother wasn't the only one they knew who was still dealing with the guilt, loss, and dozens of other emotions that came out of the experience they had shared. Al couldn't honestly say he didn't occasionally drink more than he should now either. Still, the most information he could get out of anyone on the subject – and it included seeing if Breda would let him get a look at Ed's private files – was that Ed was doing surprisingly _well_ given the circumstances.

But if that was the case, than what was going on that was causing friction between Ed and Winry? Al found it interesting that Winry hadn't said so much as one word on that subject beyond the obvious.

* * *

Gracia paused outside the door to the bedroom that used to belong to Elicia and knocked gently. "Ethan, dinner's ready."

After a long pause there was a quiet reply. "No thanks. I'm not hungry."

"You expect me to believe that?" Gracia asked with a kind chuckle as she opened the door and went in anyway.

Ethan was sprawled out on the guest bed on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow and his chin resting on top of it. His shoes and jacket lay on the floor beside his unopened backpack. He had come upstairs when he got back from school and hadn't come out since. He didn't move when she came in either.

Gracia sat down on the edge of the bed, to his right, resting her hand gently on his back. "Do you want to talk?"

"No," Ethan sighed. Though that was followed almost immediately by a "Yes. No. Well, maybe."

"Which one is it?" Gracia smiled, not trying to hide her concern.

Ethan shrugged under her hand and didn't bother to look away from the headboard. "I barely remember the last war, Aunt Gracia. I don't even really recall what happened after. All I can remember was that Dad got scared sometimes, and everyone was tense and upset a lot."

"It was a tough time," Gracia replied. "It was almost a full year before Edward was fit for duty after that."

Ethan nodded. "That's what I was told. But this time, he seems okay everywhere _except_ at home. I mean, I'm used to Mom and Dad arguing. They've always quarreled, but they never stayed mad for long."

"They're both very passionate people," Gracia agreed. She wasn't about to interrupt Ethan too abruptly while he was talking. If she did, he might stop.

Ethan nodded. "I used to crank my music up to avoid listening to them."

"The fighting?" Gracia asked.

"No," Ethan shook his head and actually chuckled, "Making up afterwards. They could get pretty umm… interesting."

"But?" Gracia said the word that seemed to hang between them.

"I haven't heard that lately either," Ethan whispered. Gracia was sure she had never heard a teenager so forlorn at _not_ hearing the sexual activities of his parents. "I'm just hoping that with me out of the way they'll finally say whatever they need to and get it out of their systems. They keep trying to be polite when I come in, or act like things are normal, and I wish they wouldn't. It's so obviously fake."

Gracia wondered if Edward and Winry knew this. As usual, their children were more observant than most anyone gave them credit for. Sara had been the same way, as had Aldon. While Edward wasn't her son-in-law, Gracia loved all of the Elrics as family. She remembered too well when Ed and Al had been boys, and to see Ethan now made her heart ache for him, and for the boys that had gone before and grown up too fast.

"They'll work it out. They always do." Gracia patted his back one more time then stood up. It was time to give him a little room. She had said her piece. "Come downstairs and eat, please. I know for a fact that your and Alyse's presentation is tomorrow and you'll need to be alert for that."

As she reached the door she heard rustling, and when she turned her head she saw that Ethan had rolled over and was watching her. He gave her a weak smile. "Thanks, Aunt Gracia."

Gracia smiled back. "You're welcome, Ethan."


	3. Determining the Composition 3

**December 7****th****, 1952**

It was almost dinner time, so Alphonse waited at the station alone for Will while the girls prepared a welcome home feast that was almost as grand as the one they had made for Al.

That was fine with him. Al was looking forward to seeing his son for the first time in far too long. Phone conversations and letters were nice, but not the same as face to face. There were some things guys just didn't share except in private.

He waited patiently while the train pulled up to the station and people began to disembark. Though it was a slightly surreal moment when a young man he hardly recognized waved his hand in the air, grinning tiredly. "Dad!" Al found himself embraced by a guy a solid inch taller than he was, with hair that had gotten shaggy and a full goatee. But the moment they hugged, Al would have known his son anywhere. "Man it's good to be home."

"It's good to have you home," Al laughed, standing back a little to get a better look at him. "What happened to _you_?"

"College," Will chuckled in reply. "I gave up shaving regularly in order to make my morning class. What do you think Dad? You're giving me a weird look."

Al shrugged. "Well, frankly, you look a lot like my father with the facial hair. Don't be surprised if Ed gives you weird looks too, and you're probably in for a lot of heckling from your sister."

"I figured as much," Will grinned as he hefted his bag over his shoulder again. "I'll put up with it for a good meal! The stuff they serve on campus has _nothing_ on home cooking."

"Not from our place anyway," Al chuckled as they started for the car. "Don't tell me you gave up eating too."

Will shook his head, smirking. "No, just shaving and sleep. Mom's cooking is definitely _healthier_ than anything they offer us though."

"You don't seem to have suffered too badly for it," Al laughed.

"Only because I go stir crazy if I spend too much time sitting in my room studying," Will shrugged. "I didn't realize just how much time classes were really going to take out of everything else." They reached the car and Will tossed his bag in the back before sitting down next to Al. "What about you, Dad?" he asked finally. "I mean, we've talked, but how_ are _you?"

Al started the car. "Let's just say I envy you going off to University instead of Aerugo. But I'm doing all right, and the women in our family spoil me rotten," he added, grinning, "Especially your Mom."

"That's what she's for isn't it?" Will asked with a knowing grin.

"It ought to be the other way around more often," Al admitted. "But lately I don't know how I'd do it without her. She's such a patient, giving person. So, any ladies in _your _life I should know about?" It was definitely a question best asked before they got home.

Will shook his head. "There's a ton of pretty girls on campus, but no, no one special. I've only been out a couple of times. There's just too much work!"

Al didn't say so, but he was kind of glad to hear it. Too many fathers told stories about the wild times some students had in college. Though Al had always figured it couldn't be more corrupting an influence than joining the military – or following around a brother who did – at the age of twelve. "There's plenty of time for that later," he nodded. "And with your mother, sister, and grandmother waiting at home, I doubt you'll lack for _most_ of the pleasures that are offered by women."

"Gee, Dad, that may be the most suggestive thing I've ever heard you say," Will smirked, and Al chuckled because it was probably true and yet not all that inappropriate in the grand scheme of things.

"Then let's keep it between us," Al smiled back. "Someday we'll probably both look back on that fact and marvel how our conversations were ever this clean." His son had grown up a lot even in the time Al had been away and Will had been out on his own. He was proud though to know that Will was still the responsible, mature person that Al remembered. He looked tired and more than a little scruffy, but he was healthy and happy and that was what counted.

**December 22****nd****, 1952**

The Kane residence was smaller than Sara had expected, though she couldn't have said why she had thought it would be different. She was just used to the larger houses in Central she supposed. Her parents' house was on the larger size of medium, with the Mustang house being not much bigger. Breda's house was the same size as her folks' place and Aunt Gracia's. Uncle Al's was only slightly smaller than her folks'.

Perhaps she had just expected that a man with such a strong personality, and a good career, would have a larger house. It was charming though for its smaller size. More homey, with surprisingly well-kept gardens that were dormant in the winter, but full of evergreens that had bright red berries that stood out against the snow. The roof was dark slate and the house actually had a stone façade so it looked a little like a cottage. Overall the effect was very inviting.

"I'm glad you like it," Kane chuckled when Sara commented as Franz took her coat and hung it in the closet. "Though I have to give Rachel credit for finding the place, the gardening, the interior decorating, well….everything," he added, beaming proudly as he led them into the living room, where the lady in question was serving snacks to everyone who had arrived before them. A trim figure in a warm sweater and slacks, her mouse-brown hair pulled up and back in a tail.

The inside of the house was as comfortable as the out, decorated in warm, light colors and full of over-stuffed furniture for sitting, but all very tastefully done.

Maes and Elena had already claimed the golden brown-and-cream striped loveseat. Torv and his girlfriend were snuggled up on part of one couch. It didn't look like Ragnar and his girlfriend had shown up yet, and Sara knew that Kane had invited a couple of other folks from the office as well.

"Where's your son?" Sara asked curiously. She knew that Shawn was seven, but she had only seen the boy a couple of times when he had come in to the office with Kane on the occasional school holiday.

"Out in the back yard creating chaos in the snow," Kane grinned. "Travis and Colleen are out there too." His expression softened just a little. Sara knew why. Those were Matthias' kids, though they were a little older – thirteen and ten Sara thought, though they might have had birthdays by now. She wasn't sure.

"Is Karen here?" Franz asked, referring to Matthias' wife.

Kane nodded. "Of course. It wouldn't be a party without her."

It was then that Rachel noticed the new arrivals and joined them. "Welcome. Please come in and get comfortable!" Sara liked Kane's wife at once. She was warm, sincere, a great hostess, and yet imminently practical. She also had a wonderful sense of humor.

Within moments they were seated and had hot mugs of cider in hand and – bless them – the option of hard or regular. "I guess I'm driving home," Sara chuckled as she leaned against Franz's shoulder.

"You're a darling," Franz teased back, though he sipped the steaming liquid slowly.

It wasn't long before the rest of the guests arrived, and Sara was glad she hadn't dressed up too much. Comfortable almost-black gray slacks and one of her favorite knit wool sweaters in dark plum seemed to match what everyone else was wearing as far as formality went. After a year in uniform, choosing anything to wear out of her closet had seemed more daunting than a serious fight.

Perhaps the best part was the fact that no one expected anyone else to make small talk. They were all colleagues and friends and even if Sara didn't know all of the significant others well, no one seemed to mind and soon they were all chatting like old friends.

"So have you set a date yet?" Maes asked Sara with a grin at one point.

Sara shook her head. "No. We're not really in a rush. After all, it took us ten years to get together," she chuckled, "Though we _have_ been discussing it. Probably this spring, but we want to make sure his family can be there. I haven't actually _met_ them yet," she admitted. That was something she was only mildly nervous about however. From everything Franz had ever told her, she would probably get along great with his folks and his sister, and they seemed very happy with his choice of bride! Though Sara suspected they were just happy he had found a girl who hadn't broken his heart.

"As if anyone could dislike you," Maes laughed.

"How's married life treating you?" Sara asked in return. It was only fair, and it wasn't something she asked him in public. They didn't have much time for hanging out one on one as friends lately. If Maes wasn't at work he was with Elena, though that was the way it should be and they _did_ have a lot of work to do still setting up house.

Maes flashed a grin that might have been roguish except that it was far too goofy. "Honestly, I didn't know I could be this happy," he replied with sincerity. "I have no idea how my folks waited so long."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sara smiled. She was looking forward to it herself now. She had never been the overly girly type, but even she caught herself looking at wedding dresses in shop windows. She knew that no matter how dashing Franz looked in uniform, _she_ would never be allowed to live it down if she tried to wear hers! Well, no one would have been surprised if she did, but Franz enjoyed it when she dressed up, and for once it might be nice to be the belle of the ball; Franz's _Belle_ of course!

Sara found herself in deep conversations with several of the other people at the party as well. She talked a lot with Elena too, of course, and got a fairly similar story. She and Maes really _were_ a perfect fit as far as Sara could judge. She also got wrapped up in conversation with Karen and Rachel.

It was easy to sympathize with Karen, though she held up remarkably well considering, Sara thought. She had always liked Matthias Wood, even though she didn't know him as well as some of the others. Her father always spoke highly of the man and still felt responsible for his death, even though from the reports Sara knew he could hardly be blamed for enemy fire. Karen's focus now was on her children and her work. Despite the fact that the government checks that would come every month for the rest of Karen's life were reasonably sized, she needed something to keep her occupied. Sara could understand that. When the kids joined them a little later, she could see that they were doing their best to deal as well. Especially Travis, who seemed determined that he should not be seen as a boy anymore. He was polite and serious and he even helped out with serving food later on.

Rachel Kane could have been Sara's long lost older sister. They shared a lot of the same interests and viewpoints, and before long they were chatting like old friends. It helped just a little that Rachel was ten years younger than her husband, which put her only about ten years' Sara's senior.

Before dinner, Kane knocked on his glass and called for everyone's attention. "Before we eat, I'd like to make a little announcement," he grinned, his arm around Rachel's waist as they came to order.

"Look out or we're all in for demotions," Ragnar chuckled.

"Don't tempt me," Kane laughed. Obviously though, whatever it was seemed likely to be good news. "I just thought you all deserved to know that, well, we're having another child."

The room erupted in hoots, hollers, and congratulations. Rachel, leaning against her husband's side, laughed. "This way when your commanding officer comes in growling like a bear for lack of sleep, at least you'll know why."

"Thanks for the warning, Mrs. Kane!" Torv laughed.

"We've only been home for a little over two months," Maes pointed out boldly. "Just how expectant _are_ you two?"

It was very possibly the first time Sara had seen Marcus Kane look embarrassed.

"About two months," Rachel smiled smugly, nudging her husband in the ribs with one elbow. "We enjoyed Marcus' leave time."

The Brigadier General turned a rather lovely shade of pink.

* * *

It was a little later in the evening, after dinner, when Sara noticed Marcus standing a little ways off from the crowd, standing in the dim blue light that came through the window, looking out one of the back windows at the snow covered yard that seemed to reflect what little moonlight there was serenely upward. She approached, but paused when she saw the sad look in his eyes as he stood there, holding his glass in one hand, watching the snow fall. There was a damp line that ran down one cheek and shone slightly in the dim light.

Sara was considering turning around when Kane shifted his weight on his feet and spoke. "Matthias always liked snow. He said it was like watching the world washed clean; a fresh canvas to start over."

"And did he ever need that fresh canvas?" Sara asked softly, smiling at the idea.

"Sometimes," Kane smirked ironically. "We both did. Fullmetal and Flame are both probably full of stories of how they wish they hadn't passed us." His eyes never left the window.

"Really?" Sara hadn't ever heard any of those.

"We had our wild moments," Kane nodded, taking a drink. "Matthias never did forgive me for his bachelor party."

Maybe it was a good thing she didn't know these stories! "You miss him don't you?"

"He was my best friend, Sara," Kane downed the rest of the glass in one gulp before he finally looked at her. "From the first day we sat in class we just kind of clicked. For all we've been though, we might as well be brothers. Despite everything, I really thought we'd both make it through this."

"I'm sorry, Sir." She found it mildly startling that he had called her by her first name. He almost never did, especially not since she became a State Alchemist.

Kane shook his head and smirked. "Marcus, please. In my own house no one salutes me but the dog. And he seems to prefer to do it with his hind leg."

Sara would have laughed, but she knew that Kane's heart wasn't in the joke either. "All right then, Marcus." It felt weird to say it out loud, but it seemed to relax some of the tension in the moment. "So, what would he say if he'd been here for your little announcement earlier?"

Kane chuckled, his eyes going briefly back to the window. Sara wondered if, in his mind at least, Kane could see Matthias' face. "He'd tell me it was about damned time."

**December 28****th****, 1952**

Winter always seemed to be party season in Central. Though perhaps that was because it was too cold to do much else and everyone retreated indoors and invented ways of keeping the dreary winter at bay. There had once been ancient religious observances involved, but those hadn't been practiced in so long no one except scholars of the obscure even remembered the reasons for them. Still, it was a nice time of year for getting together with friends and family and having celebrations!

The Central HQ New Year's Eve party held at the Officer's Club was one that was usually a favorite. Tonight, however, Edward wished he could have found a way to duck out without it being noticeable. For the first time in nearly thirty years, he was going stag. Of course, it wasn't like he and Winry did much together at events lately anyway, but she had begged off claiming she wasn't feeling well and Ed hadn't felt like arguing. She really didn't look all that well, so he figured Winry was telling the truth.

He was at the party for half an hour before he realized that he probably could have used _that_ as a really good excuse to avoid coming out. Ed just really didn't feel like celebrating, though he was glad that the old year was ending. This year – hell, most of the last year and a half – had been nothing but one problem after the other and he would rather forget the whole thing ever happened.

Edward found the entire affair absolutely depressing. Everyone around him seemed to be having a fantastic time. Sara and Franz were inseparable and out on the dance floor every other number. Maes and Elena Mustang were the same. All the usual couples were talking and eating and enjoying whatever beverage they preferred; all happy, all smiling.

Ed congratulated Marcus when he heard the good news about his and Rachel's impending second child. Marcus had been obviously down since the memorial service for Matthias not long after they got home. Of course, he had been upset when Ed told him about Matthias' death way back in Aerugo, but no officer worth his stars let even terrible news like that get in the way of duty. It had been a war. Mourning and break downs were for _after _work.

Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't feel like dancing, or really doing much of anything that was going on, but Ed discovered that this year's party was even less enjoyable than he had been expecting. Oh he smiled and chatted with anyone who came up, and even exchanged banter where appropriate, but Ed knew that all he was doing was putting on a good show. He was sincerely glad that everyone else was having a good time. It would have been nice if he could do the same.

The problem was everything reminded him of Winry. He wanted to be here with her, the way they used to be. He wanted to see her smiling face, hear her laughter, and enjoy the feeling of just having her there beside him. If he thought hard enough he could remember those days. The problem was that he was pretty sure if she had been in the mood to come, they wouldn't be dancing. Winry wouldn't be smiling at him. He would probably say something else stupid to get her mad and ruin the entire evening.

That seemed to be all he was good for anymore; screwing up and making things hard on his family. It had hurt when Ethan hadn't come home the next night after going over to Al's. Ed had called over there only to find out that Ethan was staying at Gracia's. At least the kid was safe, but Ed knew without any doubt in his mind why his son had vacated the house. It was _him_.

Maybe that was why Ed was standing in a corner nursing down another drink. Ed hadn't really been paying attention to how many he'd had. Frankly, he didn't care and it wasn't _that _many. Winry had harped at him about drinking_ anything _for the past two months, and he'd only actually come home _drunk_ a scant handful of times, and then not overly so. Well at least if she wasn't expecting him to come home sober she wouldn't be disappointed when he didn't. So Ed just didn't worry about it. He sampled several of the different liquors they had available tonight, trying a few he hadn't before, or had only had once or twice. Not a large quantity of any of them, but after a while he noticed that they were having an effect.

Ed was caught off guard when Roy leaned up against the wall beside him. "You're not pretty enough to be a wallflower, Fullmetal," he smirked, though he dropped the sarcasm almost immediately. "Where's Winry tonight?"

"She wasn't feeling well," Ed replied with a shrug. "I came alone."

"Well don't strain yourself trying to kiss your own ugly face come midnight," Roy chuckled, but his expression didn't match his tone. He looked worried. If Roy looked worried about _him_ thenthat was never a good sign.

"Don't worry, I won't," Ed sighed and sipped. He wasn't really in the mood to rise to Roy's usual taunts. Frankly, in retrospect he probably deserved most of them. "You know," he found himself saying, "You were right."

"I was?" The comment just seemed to confuse Roy. Well, that was a nice side effect.

"Yeah," Ed shrugged. "You were right. Winry was right. Hell, Havoc was right."

"I'm not sure I get what you're talking about," Roy admitted after a moment.

"About me and the military," Ed explained. Geez, it wasn't_ that _difficult to understand. "I probably should have gotten out when you gave me the chance. All I've done since then is screw up anything important that's been put in my hands."

"Not that I'm usually one to interrupt a good self-depreciating diatribe," Roy replied slowly, "But I seem to recall you proved me wrong on that count rather spectacularly."

"Then explain why I couldn't kill a few convicts slated for death to give my brother his body back, but I didn't think _twice_ about burying over a thousand honest soldiers alive because they took outone of my men," Ed snorted, "Or giving my own brother the order to bring down a tunnel on the heads of innocent women and children in the name of the mission." He finished what was in his glass. It didn't dull the emotional pain. "You were right there too."

"I'm beginning to hate being right," Roy quipped.

"You can be wrong again tomorrow," Ed smirked. "You told me not to go to Aerugo didn't you? But I went, and I completely screwed up that entire operation."

"You completed the mission with fewer losses than anticipated and with the desired result," Roy offered a counter-argument.

"At the expense of breaking every rule and code I actually believe." It was really lousy to be just drunk enough to be honest, but not enough to forget it later. Ed shook his head. "I followed my orders, Mustang, but that's a lame excuse for what we did down there."

Roy sighed. "I tried to warn you, Ed. I told you what it would do to you, didn't I?"

"You did," Ed agreed emphatically. "Isn't that what I said? You were right."

* * *

Alphonse wasn't entirely sure what to make of the wide-eyed Roy Mustang who informed him as vaguely as possible that he should have a chat with his brother. He hadn't seen much of Ed all evening come to think of it. He excused himself from his present conversation and headed in the direction that Roy had indicated.

His heart sank when he found Ed leaning against the wall near one of the doors, a drink in hand. While he was standing upright, he looked like he might not remain that way if he had to move quickly. Al didn't even bother hoping that Ed was just tired. Though at least to the eye that wasn't as familiar with Ed's body language, he probably still_ looked_ reasonably sober. "Hey, Brother," he smiled as he walked up, hoping to start things off on a positive note.

Ed turned his head and looked over at him. "I see you finally detached yourself from Elicia for five minutes," his mouth quirked in a wry smile.

Al had to fight not to scowl. "I figured I could use some air. It's stuffy in here," he replied casually. "Why don't you come with me?"

"Ahh… you've been talking to Roy," Ed smirked. "Sent you over to check on me didn't he?"

Well, Roy had been right. Ed was definitely a little toasty, if not more. It was hard to tell sometimes. Al sighed. "Let's go outside."

Fortunately Ed didn't actually argue as they went out the door only a few feet away onto one of the balconies. It was pretty cold given the late hour and the snow on the ground, but after the warmth of inside and the press of active partiers, Al did find it refreshing. He leaned against the railing. After a moment, Ed did the same though he kept giving Al suspicious glances. Well, if that was the case, Al might as well assuage his paranoia and just come to the point.

"Ed, I know I've asked this before. But is something wrong?"

"With who?" Ed asked, frowning. It was telling that he didn't say _what._

Al looked his brother in the eyes. That was the best way to tell if he was lying or not. Fortunately he tended to be a very honest drunk. "You and Winry?"

Ed rolled his eyes and looked annoyed. "Other than the fact we haven't had sex once since I got back?" he asked, "Or that I'm an ass that wasted more than twenty years of her life and cheated my kids out of time with me over and over again without a second thought? Yeah, you could say there's something wrong."

Okay, there was honest, and then there was too much information and self-depreciation. Al heard the sarcasm and annoyance in the first part, but by the end he couldn't decide if the last was something he thought Winry thought, or a conclusion Ed had come to on his own. Either way, this was not a good place to have this conversation. "I'm taking you home, Ed."

"No," Ed jerked back from the railing. "I can't go home."

"Why not?" Al turned toward him. "You're in no condition to drive yourself and you really shouldn't stay." It was almost midnight and Al supposed it was luck that Ed had gotten morose instead of belligerent when he talked to Roy. Of course, most of the people here weren't entirely sober at this point, so probably most of them hadn't noticed Ed's ill humor except to leave him alone.

"If I _really_ go home like this," Ed pleaded, "Winry will never forgive me." Damn, there were tears in Ed's eyes. They weren't falling, but even the hint was a major event!

"Why wouldn't she?" Al asked softly. It was the most open Ed had been since Aerugo, and perhaps Al's only chance to hear the other side of the story.

"After everything I've done to her?" Ed asked, leaning into the railing again, this time with his back. He tiled his head upward to look at the sky. "All I've done for years is give her trouble and grief, Alphonse. Not just her; all of them. All I ever wanted was to avoid hurting my family, but it seems to be what I'm best at." His hands clenched. "I used to figure as long as I stuck it out and didn't leave like Dad did, I was set. I couldn't do that either, but that wasn't enough was it?"

Did Ed really think he was nothing but a burden and a strain? Obviously he did at the moment, but Al really wished they could have this conversation when Ed was thinking clearly. "Every marriage goes through rough spots," He replied soothingly.

Ed sighed heavily. "What marriage, Al? All we do is fight if we talk at all. She's miserable, and even if it would make her happier, I _can't_ leave."

"You wouldn't leave," Al replied with conviction. He knew Ed.

"No, I wouldn't," Ed nodded. "I'm not that strong."

Strong? Ed had accused Hohenheim of cowardice for leaving; called him a selfish bastard, uncaring, and weak. He had never considered it a matter of _strength_. "Then maybe you should try listening," Al suggested softly. "Winry loves you. If you want to stop hurting her, then maybe you should try agreeing with some of the other stuff she has to say."

Ed blinked, and Al could tell he was trying to reason_ that_ through fuzzy mental passage ways. "That makes sense…I think."

Well at least he sounded contemplative instead of dismissing the idea. Al put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Let's go, Ed." Elicia would understand if Al missed midnight. There were just some things that you did for family. Right now, Al just wanted to make sure his brother made it home _alive_ for 1953.

**January 1****st****, 1953**

Edward intended to take Alphonse's advice. He actually remembered it the next morning surprisingly enough. The problem was that by the time he dragged himself out of bed the first morning of the year Winry had apparently long ago gotten up and left the house. Ed noticed breakfast dishes in the sink and a note on the refrigerator.

_Gone in to work on a rush job. Working long hours till it's finished. There's coffee in the pot. Figured you'd need it. ~Winry_

Of_ course_ she had gone in to work on what was a day off for just about everyone else. It was just like her. There was coffee all right, but it was already cold. Ed drank it anyway, even as he grumbled to himself about her assumption that he'd need it; mostly because he felt guilty for fulfilling her expectations.

Ed waited for her all day, but when it got to be after dinner without a word, he called the shop.

"Hello, Rockbell Auto-Mail."

Ed didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the line, but it was male. "Hi," he replied, startled. "Can I talk to Winry?" He knew all of Winry's employees. Or he thought he did. She hadn't mentioned anyone new.

"She's unavailable at the moment," the guy on the other end replied casually. "Would you like to leave a message?"

"No thanks. I'll try back later." Ed hung up the phone, confused and hurt. When Winry got to working on a project, especially a rush job, he was used to her pulling all-nighters. But she preferred to work alone, and if she needed help wouldn't she have just called in one of her usual apprentices?

Ed didn't follow that train of thought towards any conclusions whatsoever. He knew that he wouldn't like it if he did.


	4. Determining the Composition 4

**January 4****th****, 1953**

Ed was feeling tired and irritated when he got home from work a little early for once. It still felt a long day. He didn't enjoy Assembly meetings and reports, and he had been hijacked from teaching one of his favorite lectures to do just that and give some more input on the combat situation south of the border.

To top it off, he hadn't had a chance to talk to Winry. As he had predicted, she pulled two back-to-back all-nighters and the only sign that she had been home at all was another note on the refrigerator and a different set of snow-damp shoes at the door when she had apparently changed them out when she stopped by the house during the day.

Ed had only tried calling Rockbell Auto-Mail one more time, and that was last night. The same guy had picked up and, again, Winry wasn't available. Ed hadn't stayed on the line long. A second listen didn't make him feel any better. The guy had a deeper voice than he did and he sounded young. Not as young as Sara and them but definitely _younger. _

On top of a day of Assembly meetings, Ed had barely scraped through a rather difficult set of alchemy combat drills this afternoon. To make a point, he had taken on _three_ other State Alchemists in a full all-on no holds barred alchemy battle. They were less experienced, and being new they hadn't been down in the combat zone. Ed had managed to defeat all three of them by playing it smart, but he had gotten a rather ugly dent in the casing of his auto-mail courtesy of one of them. He also had a pretty good headache going from where one of them had caught him in the head.

Ed hadn't expected Winry to be home, so he wasn't particularly disappointed when she wasn't. Well, Al had said to listen to what Winry had to say. Did _nothing_ count? He changed into jeans and a t-shirt, poured himself a single glass of scotch and pulled one of the alchemy books off the shelf. He had an idea for a new way to counter one of the attacks that had been used on him today, so he might as well figure it out.

Half an hour later he was deep into research when he heard the door open and familiar footsteps in the hall. "What happened to you?" Winry asked. It was then Ed realized that the dent in his arm was rather visible.

"Just a little demonstration at work," Ed replied without looking up. "I have some enthusiastic colleagues." He shrugged off the flash of irritation.

"I'll say," Winry came over and put her hands on the metal.

Ed jerked his arm away. "Leave it alone."

"It needs to be fixed, Ed," Winry replied with exasperation. She tried to get a hold of it again.

"I said leave it!" Ed pulled away again. "I'm not in the mood to be poked and tinkered with right now and I don't feel like taking it off. Besides," he couldn't help making the reference, "All you've done for the last few days is work on auto-mail right? Take a break." Maybe he shouldn't bring it up right now, but he wanted to know.

Winry looked confused. "Yeah. We finished the order this afternoon. That's why I came home."

"Funny how it only took you four days," Ed stood up, leaving the book on the table as he met her eyes from an even standpoint. He hated arguing sitting down. "Of course you're just that _thorough_ aren't you?"

There was clear confusion and a little wariness on Winry's part. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Winry," Ed slammed his fist down on the table, making the book jump. "All you care about is auto-mail, admit it."

Winry's face went red. "And all you care about is alchemy! I've tried to take care of the rest of you, but you won't let me."

"More like you didn't feel like it." Not a word. He left her openings, but she didn't say a word about _him_. "Who was the guy who kept picking up the phone?"

"Guy?" She looked perplexed. "Oh, you mean Alec."

"Is that his name?" Ed asked. He didn't really care if he came on too harsh. He had to know what was going on.

Recognition dawned in Winry's eyes and he could _see_ her going defensive. "Alec is a _friend_ of mine, Edward. We worked together in Aerugo. He was helping me out with the order."

"On a holiday?" Ed found it hard to believe.

"I needed some help and I already gave everyone else a couple of days off," Winry explained hotly. "I didn't want to make them break plans when the order came in so I called Alec."

"You were always busy when I called," Ed replied. He realized he sounded surly, but he didn't care.

"I was working with the _machinery_," Winry exclaimed! "Do you really have the indecency to accuse me of _cheating_, Edward? Do you even believe for a second what you're implying?"

"If the circumstances fit," Ed retorted, though he was beginning to feel stupid for making the accusation. Still, how was he supposed to have known?

"I can't believe you!" Winry shouted back, enraged in a way Ed hadn't seen in a very long time. "You are such a selfish, self-_righteous_, paranoid, arrogant jerk!"

For the first time in years, Ed felt the resounding painful crack of metal against his already pounding skull. He staggered backwards, one hand over the spot just behind his ear where she had connected. "Yeah? Well while we're picking out all of _my_ flaws, your cooking lately has been _awful._ No flavor at all. What have you been using to spice it with, sawdust?" If she was going to be a spiteful little bitch than why not just lay everything out?

"I've had heartburn," Winry replied, sticking the wrench back in her pocket. "So I toned it down a little. If you didn't like it you could have just said something earlier."

"Of course, you've got an excuse for everything lately don't you?" Ed asked. It sure seemed like it. Headaches, heart burn, cramps, it was always _something._ "Why am _I _suffering for it?"

"Is your stomach all you think about?" Winry snorted.

"What about you," Ed retorted with an unpleasant smirk. "At least I'm not the one griping because nothing fits."

"How could you?" Winry was still glaring, but there were tears in her eyes. She was always emotional. Then she scowled, and Ed knew he wasn't to like whatever she said next. "You're drunk again, aren't you?"  
"So what of it?" Ed barked. "And no, actually, I'm not." _Not yet,_ but he didn't say that out loud.

"If you don't believe me about Alec, am I supposed to believe you with an empty glass on the table?" Winry countered coldly. "Let's see if the same logic holds up in the opposite direction shall we?"

"Damn it, Winry, I've got it under control!" He did, really. Couldn't she see that? Why was she the only woman around who seemed to have no faith in her husband's ability to take care of himself?

"No you don't! I know you're hurting, Edward," Winry shook her head. "I _saw_ what you saw. I heard what you went through. And I understand that it's painful. But damn it I'm hurting too!" She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and words poured out almost too fast for Ed to understand them. "Just please stop doing this to yourself! Every time you're hurting you draw in on yourself, you refuse to let anyone else help and instead of standing up on your own two feet anymore you curl up and fall apart! _This _is what I've been trying to avoid more than anything else. I know you don't want to hurt me, Ed. Believe it or not I've been listening. But this is another one of those _decisions_ you always make on your own. And you know what, it's a lousy one!"

Ed wasn't sure if Winry ran out of words, or just out of air, but at that point she dissolved into tears. Ed couldn't yell at that. It was like picking a fight with a starving kitten. It was just mean and there was no sport in it. The wind fell out of him like it abandoned the canvas of a sailing ship. "You're right." The words just came out of his mouth, though they were barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, Winry."

**January 15****th****, 1953**

Winry wasn't sure if the awkward silences were better than fighting, but she had gotten used to them. Still, it was like living in a dream; more like a nightmare. Outside of their house, the world went on as normal. The war continued in Aerugo, though on a smaller scale. At Military Headquarters alchemists got trained, meetings were held, and the day to day bureaucracy needed to run the military and the Country continued in Central.

Sara and she met and talked sometimes over lunch, and Sara babbled about wedding plan ideas. She and Franz had set a date for the end of May, and Winry had never seen her daughter so excited about an event. Winry also got all the HQ gossip from her daughter lately. She talked to Riza and Elicia but with the war she was swamped with work and didn't have free time like she used to. She knew about Marcus and Rachel's baby, and Maes and Elena's house, and a dozen other things. In exchange, Winry kept Sara apprised of how Cal Fischer's surgery had gone, and what she heard about his therapy, which was going slowly but steadily. He wouldn't be back on active military duty for a couple of years though, if he decided to stick it out and go back to being a State Alchemist when he was done.

It seemed like everyone's lives were going on and rebuilding, while hers was falling apart. Edward hadn't raised his voice to her once since that night but now he didn't say much at all. The following weekend he had _allowed_ her to take off both his arm and leg and give them a full over-haul. They needed it. Even after the war he had been reluctant to have her do more than critical maintenance and it showed. She offered to design something new, but wasn't surprised when Ed turned the offer down.

Winry made a point of not harping on Ed about how much he drank or when, and that actually seemed to be helping. Ed hadn't come home drunk since New Year's and while he might still have a drink or two in the evenings, at least it wasn't every night. Winry could live with that. The last two weeks had been much less intense. They weren't talking much, but maybe Ed was finally getting to a point where eventually they could mend things.

He still worked late, and Winry found herself more and more often eating at Gracia's. If she didn't, she probably would never have had the chance to spend much time with Ethan anymore either. Her son came home to get things he needed from his room, but he insisted that they didn't need him in the way right now.

"You're not in the way," Winry assured him, giving him a hug that he returned desperately. "You never could be, Ethan. Please don't ever think that." They spent time together at the workshop too when Ethan wasn't at the hospital, where he assisted more often as his healing alchemy skills improved. Ethan was getting pretty good with auto-mail engineering though. He could do any of the necessary maintenance that might come up, and a lot of the more unusual fixes. Most recently he had started on some designs. Winry was proud of her youngest son. Despite everything that was going on he wasn't hanging his head and feeling sorry for himself. He kept moving forward.

Winry just hoped Edward would remember his own advice.

**January 18****th****, 1953**

Winry was beginning to think that this might be the coldest winter in Central since she had moved here. Snow was falling again and had been all day. There were four inches of accumulation outside from the past few weeks of on and off snow. The occasional melt made the roads and sidewalks slick with ice.

She was glad to get home where it was warm and quiet after another very long day. She had performed four auto-mail surgeries that morning, and then spent the rest of the afternoon on design and repairs. They were so busy lately, even with everyone working, and it was all because of the war. When Alec had offered to continue helping out, Winry had definitely taken him up on the offer. She hadn't mentioned Edward's ridiculous accusation that there might be something going on. As if she would ever be interested in a man almost half her age!

Winry changed out of her work clothes and slipped into more casual clothes for lounging around the house. She didn't feel like going out anywhere else tonight in this weather and Edward had the car. As she put the kettle on for tea, the phone rang. Winry picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," Aldon's voice came over the line, warm and cheerful as usual. "How are things up there in the frigid city?"

"Very funny." Still, Winry couldn't resist the small chuckle that came out of her. "Frigid, as you said. It's been snowing."

"Lots of rain down here, but very little snow since the year started," Aldon replied conversationally. "Though we had a little bit end of last year."

Winry smiled. "Did Coran like the snow?"

"Oh he loved it," Aldon chuckled. "We played in it for hours until Cassie made us come in. She said it made her cold just watching us."

"Speaking of Cassie, is she weathering the winter all right?" she asked. She knew that the gentler winters of Resembool were much better suited to her daughter-in-law's slight frame and sensitivity to cold.

"Just fine," Aldon replied, sounding a little smug. "Not a cold in sight and she doesn't get as cold as she used to."

"I would imagine not," Winry said knowingly. Having a couple of children did tend to solve that problem too. "How are the boys?"

As always, that question led off into a long and always delightful series of stories about Coran's latest escapades as well as Aldon's fatherhood adventures with challenges like potty training. Also included were the new stories of Reichart, who was now exactly two months old. It was funny, Winry thought, how the stories about a little one who did very little in comparison could be just as exciting. It was the promise of things to come which always made her enjoy hearing about each new experience and moment with a young child. It was exciting to watch them grow into the people they would become.

"You know, you and Dad should come visit soon," Aldon said when he finished the stories. "We haven't seen you since Dublith. Cassie's folks came out to visit for a week last month. It was pleasant, but you know we really like seeing you guys." Winry caught what he really meant. Aldon found his own parents less _stressful. _

"That sounds wonderful," Winry admitted regretfully. "But I don't think it will be soon, Aldon. I've been swamped with work lately."

"And Dad?"

"He's been working late a lot," Winry replied effusively. While she suspected that Aldon knew at least as much about what was going on as Sara and Ethan – surely he still talked to his siblings – he never pressed.

"Then it really sounds like you could both use the vacation," Aldon chuckled, true to form. "If nothing else, we'll see you at Sara's wedding in a few months. Wow, I was beginning to think I'd never be able to say that."

"Well I've never seen your sister so wrapped up in something girly," Winry admitted, glad to shift topics and talk about happy news. "Every time we talk she's in the middle of planning something else." She and Ed were covering most of the cost of course but Sara was so practical that, even with all her plans, the budget was more than reasonable so far, so Winry had been letting Sara do pretty much whatever she wanted.

"Yeah, I hear a lot of wedding planning when I call her too," Aldon admitted, obviously smiling on the other end of the line. "I'm glad though. I think it keeps her from thinking about the war."

Winry nodded. "I actually get the feeling that's part of why Franz proposed when he did," she admitted. She had speculated on it for a while, and that was her theory at least. Her soon to be son-in-law was sensitive enough to Sara's needs and moods to take that into account.

"That sounds right," Aldon agreed. "I was kind of thinking the same thing."

"Nice to know we still think alike," Winry chuckled. It was reassuring to know that _someone _still understood her. Some days she wasn't entirely sure she was going just a little crazy.

"Hey," Aldon replied. "I learned from the best, Mom."

**February 1st, 1953 **

Somehow during Edward's time away, it seemed like the amount of paperwork involved in his job running the State Alchemy Program had tripled. Or perhaps he had just blocked the horrors of it from his mind. In comparison, his paperwork as a General with an entire Division under him seemed relatively painless. Still, he didn't really mind. It kept him busy and distracted, which meant that he could keep his thoughts from wandering in directions that depressed or annoyed him.

He was going to be late for dinner again tonight he suspected, but he really did need to finish the expense reports for the last month to turn in to Breda and the financial offices as soon as possible. So Ed resigned himself to working through dinner. That was the only reason he was still in his office after everyone else should have left for the evening. So it was very noticeable when he heard some quiet voices and chuckles in the hall outside his office. Curiosity got the best of him and Ed decided to investigate. He got up, opened his office door, and stepped into the hallway.

Three State Alchemists – _none_ above the rank of Major or older than twenty-five years old – stopped cold in the hall, their arms loaded down with boxes. They looked like they would have dropped the boxes and saluted but were afraid to. Ed recognized them at once. "Polasky, Finn, Lordes; Do I want to know what's in those boxes and where you're going with them at HQ after six in the evening?"

It was Finn who dared to speak up. He grinned. "Umm…hey, Fullmetal. What are you doing here so late?"

"Paperwork," Ed smirked, "And waiting for you to answer my question."

"You're working too hard," Lordes shook his head. "Why don't you come out with us tonight instead?"

Out? This should be interesting. "And just what's going on?"

"Dirk's getting hitched next week," Polasky chimed in, referring to Dirk Chambers, another one of the younger State Alchemists. "We're throwing the bachelor party. Come on and have a little fun. It's over at Brannigan's."

That was one of the pub restaurants in town, not too far from HQ. It wasn't far, and Ed's stomach was reminding him that he'd skimped on lunch. Besides, he hadn't spent a lot of time getting to know some of the newer alchemists. Not with the war, and before that the trip to Xing. "Sure, why not. Sounds great." He ducked back into his office long enough to grab his brown winter coat and then followed.

He didn't have the car tonight, but it was only about a ten minute walk even in the frigid winter weather. The three alchemists with him chatted and planned as they ran through last minute details. During that time, Ed picked up that it was a friend of Finn's who was currently managing the place and had been willing to give them the entire back room at a major discount – plus a flat bar fee – for the evening.

"How does that work?" Ed couldn't help asking as the guys finished up with the decorations.

Finn's grinned broadened. "It means we paid and everyone gets all their drinks covered for as much as they want. No worries about running up a tab we can't pay later."

"It must be good to have friends in the business," Ed chuckled.

It wasn't long before the party started. Ed actually knew most of the guys who showed up through the doors. The majority of them were alchemists or other officers and staff from Headquarters. At least half of them hadn't taken the time to change and were in pants and shirt sleeves. Ed had at least shed his jacket with rank. The only thing that marked him as higher ranking than most of the people here – aside from obvious recognition – was the fact that he was in the collared uniform shirt instead of one of the black tee-shirts that could also be worn under the uniform.

It was a little weird to be out with this many subordinate officers in a social situation. It had been a long time since Ed felt comfortable enough to hang out with them. Not because he didn't like the current lot, but because most of the ones he used to spend time with easily were getting older, just like he was, and had lives and families. So he got a beer and resigned himself to congratulating Chambers and watching the fun. At least that was the plan.

"Come on, Fullmetal," Finn dared to nudge him with an elbow after a while. "Live it up! You hardly do your infamy justice."

"Since when am I infamous?" Ed quirked an eyebrow.

"Let's just say the legends are a lot more interesting than spending time with reality." Finn was a bold one all right! "At least sit down and play a game of cards. You know _how_ right?"

Did he know how to play cards? Yeah, the stories really were out of date. Ed shrugged casually. "Sure, why not? I think I can manage a game or two."

Within an hour Ed was sure Finn wished he had never suggested that Ed join them for a few hands. From the moment Ed shuffled and dealt, Finn had to know he'd just been bluffed. Ed could deal a hand with his eyes closed if he had to. He had an absolute blast demonstrating just how badly Finn had misjudged him; half of the other alchemists at the table were out of cash by the time Ed was done with them.

"I think I've been had," Finn sighed into his third drink as he tossed his last stack of sens Ed's direction. "No one told us you could play."

"Never play a game of chance with a man whose life depends on turning chance into strategy," Ed grinned and waved the server over and ordered another drink. "You want a chance to win it back?"

"No thanks!" Finn laughed and the rest of the guys at the table shook their heads. "I've already lost enough tonight. I'd like to walk out of here with my dignity."

"If you do than this isn't much of a party," Polasky smirked.

Indeed. After all, it _was_ a bachelor party. While it started out reasonably tame – as far as drinks and cards went – it only got wilder from there. Not that it was anything too wild for Ed to handle. He had been to plenty of the things over the years. Heck, he'd helped head up a few! As the night wore on he relaxed. For the first time in a very long time people were glad to just have him around. No one here seemed to care who he was by the second round of cards. Tonight he could just be another guy celebrating life and having a good time.

Like any really good bachelor party – except Al's, and then only because Ed had insisted on saving his brother from Elicia's wrath – there was a dancing girl. While Ed wasn't sure where Finn had found her, even he had to admit the woman was a knock-out: with long, tightly curled red hair that cascaded down her back and swayed with the rest of her and brilliant blue eyes; a waist tiny enough that Ed couldn't imagine how she kept it and hips and bust that were accented by the tight outfit she wore in shimmering blue fabric. Her movements reminded him a little of the Roma, but with a much more sexual overtone to them. Still, she was obviously a trained dancer; Ed had learned over the years how to tell the difference.

When she finished her initial show – and had Chambers blushing from his nose to his boots – Ed turned back to the table and a fresh set of card players who were sure they could take him on. He had only just started to shuffle though when Jehanette – the red head – dropped right down into his lap and wrapped her supple arms around his neck, plantings a kiss firmly on his cheek. "Hello there, General," she grinned wickedly, flashing delicate white teeth and winking at him. "Aren't you dashing?" Her perfume wafted up into his nose. "I don't usually get to have such a prestigious audience."

Ed couldn't ignore the feel of her hips on his lap, or her chest pressed against his where he couldn't look anywhere without it in his sight. He might have found her more alluring though, if she hadn't been young enough to be Sara's twin.

As he opened his mouth to respond, a hand rested on her shoulder and tugged the girl away with a laugh. "He's married, babe," Lordes commented, winking at Ed with a '_you owe me for the save'_ grin as he swatted the girl on her ass and guided her away. "There's plenty of guys here you can flirt with who don't have wives that'll kill you later."

Jehanette pouted and tossed Ed a rather seductive good bye look, but then – as he would have expected – she was flirting with the next available guy. It was all work to her. Ed shook himself and went back to dealing. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little warmed inside by the encounter. It had been a while since a woman – any woman – had looked at him that way. At least that_ he _had noticed.

"Can't have your glass empty tonight, man," Finn smirked as he leaned over and glanced into Ed's cup. "Try some of this stuff," he dumped it in from a bottle with a label Ed didn't immediately recognize.

"What is it?" Ed picked up his glass and sniffed curiously.

"A little home recipe," Finn grinned broadly. "My old man invented it."

Well then he wouldn't offend by not trying it. Ed took a sip and tasted, waiting for it to hit his stomach as he analyzed the flavor. It was a rich, sweet mix, a little like cream liquor but even sweeter, with a bolder blend of spices, and a serious kick that came several seconds later. "Wow," Ed blinked, shook his head a little, and grinned. "He was some kind of genius right?"

"That's what I told him," Finn grinned. "Enjoy! I brought plenty. That's what was in the boxes," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ed laughed, then finished dealing and looked at his hand. He had most of a royal flush already sitting right there in his hand. It was all Ed could do not to grin evilly over his cards at the rest of the table. This was _definitely_ his night!

* * *

Edward had thought he had forgotten how to relax, but for the first time in a while he had obviously found the ability again. He felt _good _as he made his way up the porch stairs, avoided slipping on the icy patch that had formed at the top, and went inside. He had been lucky; one of the other alchemists had offered him a ride home. If not, Ed didn't really think he would have wanted to try getting home alone this late in this weather. He knew his limits, and when he was too drunk to try it.

It was late. A glance at the clock told Ed it was after eleven. That meant Winry was probably in bed. She went to bed early most nights. Ed hung up his jacket, kicked off his boots, and headed for the kitchen, humming one of the tunes that had been playing on the radio at the party. A glass of water before bed would be a wise thing.

"So where have you been?"

Ed stopped and turned to glance into the rest of the living room. It was only then that he realized he had completely missed Winry sitting on the couch and the lamp that was still on. She looked mad. "I worked late."

"I called your office," Winry shook her head. "But there was no answer. I tried calling Al's house, but he hadn't seen you either." She paused, glaring, and then her expression darkened suddenly.

What was this about? He came home late all the time. Okay, not usually _this_ late. "I was invited to Major Chambers' bachelor party."

Winry stood up and crossed the room, her eyes focused intently on him. Ed almost took a step back, but made himself hold his ground as she wiped her fingers across his face. "So what's this?" She held her hand up showing a smear of bright red.

"It's nothing," Ed replied, scowling. It took him a moment to figure out what the hell the stuff _was_ before he remembered Jehanette's very brief interaction with him.

"Nothing?" Okay, that was the wrong answer. Winry's face went livid. "You come home _five hours_ late without telling me where you went and you come in like _this_?" She tossed both hands in the air as she gestured at him. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

Ed's good mood completely evaporated as his temper snapped. "Oh will you _shut up_ already and stop bitching?" He glared. What nerve! "That's all you do lately. I come home and get nagged at or completely ignored. _So what_ if I decided to have a little_ fun_ tonight? It's the _only _good time I've had since I got home. The first in almost two damned _years_! You keep telling me to open up, to relax, to let myself move on, but the minute I do something I actually enjoy you go and get pissed at me!"

"Who was she?" Winry still had her palm up, red smear evident, and her blue eyes went hard as steel.

"Oh her?" Ed scoffed and shrugged. "Just some dancer the guys hired for the party; hot body, but too thin for my tastes."

"You talk like you actually have experience," Winry put her hand down.

"I know what I like," Ed replied hotly. He was probably making her madder at this point, but he didn't care. Why should he? She obviously didn't; playing at placating and then going off the handle when he actually tried to do what she suggested. He was sick of this bull-shit! "But since there's been a rather dramatic lack of _that_ around lately what am I supposed to do instead I'd like to know?"

Winry's eyes brimmed wetly. "It's not my fault."

"And it's supposed to be mine?" Ed asked incredulously. "Are you saying this whole mess is my fault?"

"I'm saying you're making things harder and worse than they have to be!" Winry started crying. "I'm the only one here _trying_ anymore, Edward! But if you'd really rather be out at some testosterone-laden pre-mating ritual with some_ tramp _than here with me I—"

"Shut up!" He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand to hear what she was about to say next, because he was almost certain he knew what it was. Ed _wasn't_ sure who was the more surprised between them when his auto-mail fist connected with the side of Winry's face.  
She stumbled backwards with a cry of pain, slamming into the edge of the shelf that ran atop the cabinets in the wall of the living room, her hand covering her face.

Ed's heart almost stopped._ Shit!_ Where had that come from? He'd never purposefully struck Winry in his life. The adrenaline drained out of him as she turned and gave him the most heart-wrenching look Ed had ever seen.

Winry staggered upright and ran from the room.

_Bloody, frickin'_ _hell._ "Winry, wait!" Ed turned and ran after her. He hadn't meant to hit her! He tripped on the stairs, twice, before he made it to the bedroom door. "Winry?" He knocked.

"Leave me alone, Edward!" Inside the room, he could hear her sobbing. He tried the door anyway. It was locked.

"Please let me in," Ed pleaded. "Winry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you like that. I just…" Just what? What had possessed him to physically attack her?

_They couldn't take it. Finally, my wife just left._ Knox's words came unbidden to Ed's mind. The man had gotten violent after Ishbal, he said. He had beaten his wife. Was that what Ed was turning into?

Inside the room there was no response to his begging except the sound of Winry's tears. Then, at his feet, Ed heard soft growling. He looked down and saw Bounce crouched near his feet, looking at up him with her ears back. She was growling at _him._ "Yeah, I know girl," Ed sighed and crossed the hall, going into the other bedroom instead. "I'm a real first class ass-hole." How was he going to make up for_ this _disaster?

**February 2nd, 1953**

Alphonse was concerned when he hadn't seen Edward around Headquarters by ten in the morning. Ed was supposed to be helping him tag-team teach the advanced fighting class for the program students. The exams were coming and, while combat wasn't on them, it was a good way to keep them from hyper-focusing and allow them to blow off a little steam by trying to take their aggression out on their teachers!

He was half way down to the classroom when he crossed paths with two other State Alchemists who were looking particularly bleary-eyed. "Finn, Lordes," Al waved them down. "Have you seen Fullmetal anywhere?"

Both of the younger men shook their heads. "Well, not since last night," Finn added with an amused grin. "He came with us to Chambers' bachelor party. It was a blast!"

Lordes chuckled, nodding enthusiastically. "I had no idea he could play cards like that and _damn,_ talk about tolerance! If I drank like that I'd be dead in the morning."

Al felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach, something like impending doom. He was familiar with what that actually felt like.

"Umm, True Soul, Sir?" Finn was looking at him with some concern. "Is there a problem?"

Al shook himself and tried not to look too concerned. "I hope not."

* * *

"Damn it, Winry!" Ed shouted in a panic as he dragged himself out of the shower, one eye on the clock. "Why didn't you wake me up?" It was freaking _Noon_! He did not get a reply immediately, which told him she was definitely up, but probably downstairs. Or she had simply left him passed out and gone to work. That seemed the more likely answer. Grumbling, Ed hurried back into_ his_ room, toweling off as he went, and snagged the cleanest uniform shirt he had off the pile of clean laundry. It only took him a couple of minutes to get dressed. Damn it, Breda was going to kill him! Why today of all days?

The very idea of breakfast made his stomach turn, and his head was pounding like he had a horse – or maybe Alex Armstrong – playing kettle drums inside his skull. Ed practically ran down the stairs. He needed something on his stomach though, or he wouldn't make it through work. He skidded to a stop when he saw Winry sitting at the table, calmly sipping a cup of tea. She looked up and met his eyes with a very cool stare.

She was still mad about last night. Not that Ed blamed her. He winced as he looked at the really nasty purple bruise his fist had left on her left cheek, just under her eye. Ed's_ instinct _was to lash out at anything with his left arm because he had taught himself to block with the auto-mail first. He never wanted to hurt people unnecessarily. And yet last night he had struck with his right. That was a fighting move, and he still wasn't sure _why_ he had done it. Losing his temper was no excuse. He sighed. "Look, Winry, I'm sorry about last night. I was just…"

"Drunk?" Winry asked him with a cool stare. Her tone was worrisome for its calmness. "Or just proving that you're deaf and so self-absorbed that you can't offer anyone else a little support? That you really have changed? That you're not the same person you used to be? Well congratulations."

"Winry, please don't be like this," Ed swallowed a wave of nausea and tried to reach out for her hand. "I didn't mean to hit you."

Winry pulled her hand away and picked up her cup again. "This isn't just about that, Edward," she replied distantly. "And it's not just about you or about me. I know how you feel about me, but I also know that things can't keep going on like this."

"Look, I'm trying!" Ed slumped back and didn't try to touch her again. The clock a little behind her caught his eye. Damn it he was going to be dead if he didn't get out of here.

Winry noticed. Her eyes glanced in the same direction and a small frown furrowed her brow. "You may be here physically, but emotionally I don't think I've actually seen _you_ in a long time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ed was lost. He had apologized for the things he had done. He was trying hard to be what she wanted, even though lately he wasn't entirely sure he knew what that was. He just wanted to be the person he apparently hadn't been.

Winry set down her cup. "I think we need a break, Edward." She kept using his full name. That was never a good sign. "Some time apart to work out our own problems. I can't do this anymore, not like this."  
Wait… "Are you threatening to leave?" Ed frowned. This wasn't even _remotely_ funny. "You're kidding me right? I've been working my _ass off_ to be everything you ask and now you pull this?" He shook his head. The nerve! "Look, I'm already dead as it is. I was supposed to give a report for Breda to the Assembly four hours ago! When I get home we can sit down and talk about this rationally." He turned and went to grab his coat. "See you later," he called out as he went out the front door.

Ed drove over to HQ at the speed limit even though he really wanted to step on the gas and get there quickly. He was already screwed over so what did it matter? He had missed the meeting, he had missed the class he was supposed to help Alphonse with, and he had a hangover that made him wish he were still unconscious in bed. Sleeping it off was a luxury he did not have. Could the day get any worse?

Ed decided to start with the most painful part of the afternoon. He headed straight for Breda's office to admit his stupidity. There was apparently a line, so he stood in the outer office, drank water, and waited.

"Good afternoon, Sir," Franz smiled at him from his desk.

Ed nodded at his daughter's fiancé and offered up a pleasant smile despite his mood. "Afternoon, Heimler. How's your day going?"

"Good, thanks." Franz seemed glad to get an affirmative reply, "Taking Sara out for dinner tonight."

"Well I'd hope so," Ed grinned and they shared a chuckle.

Feury came out of Breda's office a moment later followed by a couple of bureaucrats Ed didn't recognize. "Breda's ready for you, Ed," he gave Ed a sympathetic look that told him that he was really in for it.

As soon as the door closed behind Ed, Breda opened his mouth. "You'd really better have a damned good explanation for this," he frowned, angrier than Ed was used to seeing him. "We've had that meeting scheduled for two weeks! I had to get them to agree to an extra session just to discuss approval for the improvement to the training facilities and expediting getting the alchemists out of the areas where they aren't needed. And then you have the fantastic sense to come waltzing in here almost _five hours_ late. Not even a call!"

Ed stood there at attention, taking it like any good officer would. Not that any good officer would _be _in this position. It _was_ his fault. He had acted like a rank newbie officer last night. Going out late, getting absolutely plastered the night before a critical session, and not having the sense to set an alarm clock. He owned one; great invention. Normally his internal clock had him up early enough that even when he slept in he wasn't late. He waited patiently for Breda to finish the well deserved dressing down.

Finally Breda ran out of steam. "All right, Ed," he sighed. "You can grovel now."

"I'm sorry," Ed replied simply. "There's not really much else I can say, and I know none of it will do any good. I was celebrating last night, more than I should have."

A light of apparent understanding lit in Breda's eyes, and his expression softened a little as he smirked. "I see. Well don't think it gets you off the hook, but after making me give that entire speech without the prepared notes _or_ your_ fantastic charisma,_ you owe me one."

That…was it? Ed had really expecting something harsher. "Yes, Sir."

"Get the hell out of my office and go figure out how you're going to manage that," Breda said, then shoved a large stack of papers on his desk towards him. "You can start with those. They're requisition forms from Bueáire that need to be itemized and sorted and sent down to the Quartermaster's office before the end of the day."

Ed picked up the stack and nodded. He had no idea why Breda hadn't ripped into him even more for his behavior, but he wasn't going to argue with good luck! "I'm on it."

"Good. Dismissed." Breda waved him away with one hand. Yeah, he would be pissed for a while, but apparently he would get over it.

It took Ed a couple of hours to get the paperwork sorted, approved, and down to the right offices. He was on his way back to his office when he saw Al coming down an intersecting hallway. Well, now seemed like a decent time to apologize. "Hey, Al," he waved his brother down. Al saw him, and a look of relief crossed his face. Why relief? Ed had expected him to be as angry as Breda. "I'm sorry about this morning."

Al shrugged as he fell into step beside Ed and they kept walking towards Ed's office. "The class went all right," he replied neutrally. He didn't say anything else until they were behind the privacy of closed doors. "Ed, I talked to Breda after you got here."

"Yeah, so?" Ed frowned, a little confused by his brother's behavior. "What's the matter?"

Al was clearly upset about something. "He was under the impression that you were late this morning because you were with Winry last night."

What? "Well we do live in the same house," Ed shrugged. "I have no idea why that's relevant though."

"I also saw Finn and Lordes this morning," Al continued. "And they said you were at Chambers' bachelor party last night until late."

"Well yeah," Ed nodded. "That's what I tried to tell Breda, but he didn't ask for details." What was Al getting at? "I was working late and caught them in the hall on their way over. They invited me and I figured it might be good to go ahead and go. It seemed to help morale."

His answer only made Al's scowl deeper. "Ed, do you have any idea what day yesterday was?"

"Monday," Ed snorted. "Like the first day of every work week. What's with the questions?" A sick feeling that had nothing to do with the remnants of his hang-over started to turn his stomach when Al's expression turned to one of mild horror. What the hell?

"Edward. What was yesterday's _date_?" Al picked up the calendar from Ed's desk and shoved it in his face.

"What's wrong with you, Al? I—" Ed froze as he looked at the calendar. He hadn't even noticed that it was February. The day under Al's thumb made him go cold in the middle.

_SHIT._

* * *

Edward didn't care about the speed limit on the way home. He was just lucky none of the Central police pulled him over. Damn it! How the hell had he completely missed their _anniversary_? Twenty eight years and until now he had never missed it. How could he? _Why_ hadn't Winry said anything this morning? Her words came back to him and he felt panic setting in. Winry wouldn't _really_ leave would she?

There was a taxi outside the house when Ed came around the corner. He pulled up to the house with a screech of tires and ran for the door. The taxi's trunk was open and already full of luggage. Inside, there were two suitcases still in the hallway and Winry standing there, keys in hand, dressed in one of her good traveling suits.

"What are you doing?" Ed gasped, the words coming out in a high squeak he hadn't heard since he was thirteen. "Winry!"

She seemed surprised to see him, but she picked up her bags. Her eyes were wet, like she had been crying and might start again at any moment. Her voice was quietly resigned. "You never listen. I told you this morning." He suspected she would have walked out the door except that he was standing in the open doorway, blocking it. "I've already made arrangements for things at the shop to run without me for a while. You don't have to do anything about that."

This wasn't happening. "You can't leave!" He would beg, plead, anything, but this _could not_ be happening!

Winry shook her head and looked away, worrying her lip between her teeth. "We can't help each other if we can't help ourselves, Edward." Standing there like that, with her hair down, a large-brimmed hat on her head, she looked almost just like when she was sixteen. "And I'm not strong enough to do this anymore."

"Where are you going?" Ed asked softly.

"Resembool," Winry replied, looking back up at him with a resolute expression. "Aldon said I was welcome to stay at the house."

At least it wasn't another country. "When will you come back?"

Winry shrugged. "I don't know."

"When you'll be back… or if?" Ed wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he had to.

Winry shook her head. "I don't know," she repeated in the same tone.

Ed felt something inside him break as she moved forward, and he was too stunned not to step out of the way instinctively as she pushed past. Winry didn't say another word, and all Ed could do was stare as she walked down to the taxi, put her last bags in the trunk, closed it, and climbed in. Something in his head screamed for him to _move! Do something! Get going, idiot!_ But his body wouldn't cooperate. The world was shattering slowly around him. His feet were rooted to the floor and he wasn't even sure he was breathing.

Then the taxi pulled away and all that was framed in the doorway was the empty stretch of street and the snow covered house and lawn across from them. Cold air whipped in from outside and chilled his nose, but he barely registered the sensation.

Winry was gone.


	5. Destruction 1

**February 3****rd****, 1953**

That night was a haze Edward would never fully remember; a combination of grief and rage that alternated in dramatic swings seemingly without warning, and ending in a bout of drunken sobbing on the floor next to the couch. There he remained until he passed out. It was only in the morning that Ed realized the damage he had done. The room was completely trashed. He couldn't remember breaking the vase on the bookshelves or putting a long, deep gash across the back of the couch. What the hell had he done that with anyway? The table was completely overturned and the mirror that used to hang in the entry lay on the floor, smashed beyond recognition.

His head was pounding and his stomach churned but Ed did his best to ignore them both as he dragged himself into the bathroom in the pre-dawn darkness. He had work, and he couldn't afford to be late two days in a row. Ed threw up, relieved himself, and looked at himself in the mirror, grimacing as he examined his reflection.

He looked terrible. In the unforgiving light of the bathroom he looked pale, slightly green, and well,_ old._ Had he always had wrinkles at the corners of his eyes? Those were a little sunken, dark circled, and terribly blood-shot. They looked kind of flat this morning.

His hair caught his eye. Sometime during the night it had come unbraided and fell lose and messy down his back. A few spots stuck out at odd angles as if to mock him. His hair; he'd grown it out originally because he liked it that way. His mother had always kept it trimmed in the back, and it had been a sign of change, of moving forward when he had grown it out during his auto-mail rehabilitation.

Now it irritated him. He hated it. What good had any of the ideas and goals that it signified ever done him? None, that's what. All his life he had arrogantly assumed that he knew what he was doing and that, in the end he would be vindicated in his choices. But obviously he had made an egregious mistake somewhere, and now his world was shattered. That, he supposed, was equivalency at its harshest.

Unable to stand it, Ed opened the drawer by the sink and pulled out a pair of scissors. He couldn't take that reflection for one more day. He just couldn't. It really didn't take long to trim it up decently. He could tell the length by feel, and a quick use of a hand mirror proved that it didn't look horrendous in the back. He trimmed the front up short too. If he was cutting it off, he might as well go full regulation. Maybe then the folks at HQ would find something new to criticize. Not that anyone had commented on his hair in years except the Assembly, or as a joke in passing. Maybe he should have listened. He would see about getting it professionally trimmed later.

The reflection was so drastically changed that Ed almost didn't recognize himself. That was the idea though, wasn't it? He couldn't be what Winry wanted. He couldn't be who he _had been_ when he wasn't even sure how he had changed. So he would be what he knew he was. He was General Elric, a State Alchemist. If he had failed at everything else, at least he knew he was that.

A quick look upstairs told Ed what he had expected last night. Winry's bedroom closet was completely empty. Her personal items were gone from the bathroom too. Back downstairs her workshop revealed all of her critical tools missing. No. No matter what Winry said, if she had taken those Ed was sure she wasn't coming back.

He located a clean uniform and skipped breakfast. With cutting his hair he wouldn't have time for food_ and _the drive to Headquarters. Besides, he didn't have much of an appetite. Ed avoided glancing at himself again in the rear view mirror as he started the car and headed for work. He really didn't like looking and feeling his age. _Yeah. Happy birthday, Edward._

* * *

Alphonse heard about the panic before he saw the cause of it. He was already in the classroom when the students came in jabbering incessantly about the Fullmetal Alchemist's _new look. _Al had no clue what they were talking about, but he could do nothing about it until after the lecture.

By the time he got out of class it was all Al could do not to run to Ed's office. He needn't have worried. Ed was sitting behind his desk staring so deeply at paperwork Al was sure he was looking _through_ it. What all the fuss was about was immediately evident. "Ed! What happened to you?"

Ed looked up, and the hopeless expression on his face made Al's heart ache. He shrugged. "She left me, Alphonse."

It took Al a moment to get the reference. "Wait, what? Winry?" Winry _left?_ He couldn't mean that!  
Ed nodded. "If this is all I am now I might as well start playing by the rules right?" Then he looked back down at the papers in front of him.

Something was wrong here; very wrong. "When did this happen?"

"Last night," Ed replied, making a note on a form. "She was leaving when I got home."

"And you_ let_ her?"

"What else could I do, Al?" Ed looked back up at him. "I can't do anything right, can I? I don't know how to fix this. I tried, and I failed… spectacularly." The last word took a bitter twist.

"But what_ happened_?" There had to be some piece of critical information Al was missing. This was Winry. She wouldn't just up and leave!

Anger flashed in Ed's eyes. "You want to know what happened? Talk to the drama queen. She practically accused me of cheating, Alphonse. Hell, she _did_ if you count her eyes!"

"This is about the party?"

"It's about a hell of a lot more than that," Ed shook his head. "I saw this coming in Bueáire, but I let myself get lulled into a false sense of security. I missed the signs until it was too late. It's all my fault."

"But where did she go?" Al wished Ed would be at least a little more forthcoming with information.

"Where else?" Ed snorted. "She went back to Resembool."

Al didn't like this one bit. Ed went back and forth between fatalistic and irritated almost by the moment and he looked terrible. "So when's she coming home?"

Ed shrugged, falling once more back into flat fatalism. "What did I just say? She _did_ go home. Her closet's empty and so is her workshop at the house. She told me everything was arranged with the Shop too. She said she needed a _break_," he seemed to bite the word, and his throat choked up. "That's the thing about breaks, Alphonse. It means something's _broken_, and there are some things even an alchemist can't fix."

* * *

Ethan hadn't meant to stay so late at the hospital, but when he was working in the children's ward it was hard not to. The little kids liked him, and on top of the usual assistance, he found his alchemy had more than one use when it came to healing. Little tricks cheered the spirits and distracted the kids from their problems.

He had spent the first part of the afternoon after school in with the soldiers though, specifically in the auto-mail rehabilitation area where most of the newest recipients were. There he had done what he could to help ease their discomfort and heal their wounds a little bit faster.

So he was tired, but feeling very satisfied as he trudged through the dark streets. It wasn't that late, but he had promised Gracia he would be home for dinner on time so he hurried. He wanted to swing past his folks' place and grab a couple of books he had been meaning to finish but that had gotten put off because of other duties. This early there was a good chance both of his parents were still at work, but that was all right. Mom seemed all right lately. Sad and resigned, but better. He really didn't see his father much at all because of the hours he was working.

So Ethan was surprised to find the car in the drive way. The front porch light wasn't on, but it looked like the lights in the living room were. Hoping he wasn't walking in on anything unpleasant, Ethan went inside.

He stepped in, closed the door, turned, and froze. It took him several moments to recognize the man standing with his back to him in the living room in uniform. "Dad?" When had he cut his hair?

His father turned around and looked away from the picture windows. There was a strange expression on his face. Ethan felt a shiver go down his spine. He had seen that face on patients at the hospital, but usually only the ones who were terminally ill. His Dad looked pale, but flush in the face at the same time. Then Ethan noticed the bottle in his father's hand.

When he said nothing, Ethan tried again. "Where's Mom?"

Dad turned his back again and looked back out the window. "She left."

Ethan felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Though that, he considered, would probably have hurt less. That couldn't be right! "Wh—what do you mean she_ left_?"

"I mean she packed up all of her stuff and _left,_ Ethan," he growled irritably. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

This was too surreal to be happening. Ethan moved down the hallway, and stopped again when he saw the destruction in the living room and the mirror, still lying shattered in the hall. "But why?" Shit, his voice was cracking like a kid!

"How the hell should I know?" Dad sounded like he might cry. Ethan could read him better than that though. He was sure his father did know more. Why else would he be this upset? "She said she just couldn't take it anymore," he continued then, his voice oddly quiet.

There was definitely something wrong here – beyond the painfully obvious. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Of course I'm not okay," Ed turned his head enough to glare at him. "That's a stupid question."

That was the first time in Ethan's entire life he had ever been called stupid. Or rather, had a question of his called stupid by the man who had taught him the value of questions. He waited for the man at the window – he certainly wasn't acting like his father – to say something else, but all he did was turn away again and take a long drink.

After several seconds, Ethan realized he had made his own decision. He ducked into his room, tossed the books and a couple of other things into his bag, then went into the laundry room. Bounce looked up at him from where she was penned and whimpered. Her water dish was empty, so was her food, and she had used the corner as a bathroom. He hadn't even let the _dog _out? "Don't worry, girl," Ethan opened the gate and got her leash. He tossed her empty dishes and the small bag of dog food in his bag too. "I'm not abandoning you."

When Ethan emerged from the room a couple of minutes later, his father hadn't moved from the window. Ethan felt his throat constrict, and he willed himself not to cry. He was having enough trouble believing this was happening. He'd ask Uncle Al. Surely he would know something. He had to find Mom!

By the time he got back to Gracia's he was numb and tired. It started snowing harder and he ended up picking up Bounce when her paws started icing and she started to cry out as she walked.

"Ethan! Thank goodness," Gracia exclaimed as she opened the door and let him in. "I was getting worried." Then she noticed the dog.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Gracia," Ethan said as he put Bounce down. "I just couldn't leave her at the house anymore. She wasn't even let out this morning."

"It's all right," Gracia smoothed his hair and helped him out of his bag and coat. "I don't mind another tenant. Now come in and eat before your food gets as cold as you are."

Ethan walked into the living room and stopped cold. Alphonse, Elicia, and Alyse were seated at the table. He felt his hands began to tremble. "Why didn't anyone tell me Mom _left yesterday?_" he found himself exclaiming, unable to hold his confusion and anger in anymore.

Alphonse looked regretful. "We didn't know until today," he admitted softly. "I wanted to tell you as soon as we got here, but you weren't back."

"Do you at least know where she went?" Ethan willed the tears back.

"Resembool," Elicia told him. "She's staying with Aldon and Cassie for a while."

That was one fear that faded slightly. "So she's coming back." At least if she was in Resembool he could talk to her.

"To Central? Probably eventually," Elicia nodded.

Ethan understood what was meant in what they didn't say. She might come back, but she likely wasn't coming _home._ "It's Dad," he whispered finally, and he felt the tears he had fought hard and manfully to push back start to drip down his cheeks. His clenched fists were trembling. His whole_ body _was trembling. "She left because of Dad, didn't she?"

"We don't know the details, sweetie," Gracia replied calmingly. "I'm sure once Winry gets to Resembool and we can reach her we can find out what's going on."

"Dad said she left," Ethan shrugged, more to keep from breaking down further than anything else. "But… he insisted he didn't know why." From the scowl that immediately crossed his uncle's face, Ethan knew he'd been lied too. But then, he'd expected that anyway. "The living room's trashed and Dad's well… the same…I think. I'm sorry I didn't ask about bringing Bounce over first, Aunt Gracia."

"It's all right, Ethan. I told you, she's welcome to stay too."

There seemed to be nothing to do now but sit down at the table. There was a plate already waiting for Ethan, heaped with meatloaf and broccoli and mashed potatoes. Normally he would have dug right in and polished off the whole thing. If things were normal. At the moment he had no appetite. As the others began eating again he forced himself to stick a fork full of potatoes in his mouth. They didn't taste like much, and they stuck funny in his throat. Ethan knew it wasn't Gracia's cooking that was the problem.

It was a quiet meal. Afterward Ethan dropped down on the couch while he heard Gracia and the other women vanish into the kitchen. His uncle sat down next to him, but didn't speak. Ethan knew that Al was waiting for him to start talking first. That was how Al worked, and he was good at it. That was fine. Ethan still had things to say. "I wanted to help him, to say something but he was in one of those moods…"

"The ones where he doesn't listen?" Al asked gently. "Yeah, I've had a lot of experience with those. Hang in there, Ethan. I can promise you, Winry would never abandon you or any of her family. She loves you."

"I know she loves me," Ethan sighed. "And I know Dad loves me too but… but how can they stop loving each other?"

Al sighed. "I don't think love is the problem."

"Then I really don't understand." Ethan shook his head. He had watched his parents go through all sorts of problems, and heard about the rest. They had been through so much and come out stronger for it. He would never in a thousand years have expected their relationship to fall apart.

Al's arm came around his shoulder and gave Ethan a reassuring squeeze. "I don't either," he admitted quietly. "You weren't the only one who didn't see it coming. But I'm sure in a few days when Winry actually gets to Resembool we can talk to her and find out what's really going on."

Ethan nodded. "I wish I could talk to her now. Dad must have done something terrible for her to just… give up and run away."

"Don't be too hard on Ed," Al replied. "Nothing's ever as simple as it looks, and while I love them both, they're both pretty hot tempered. I still think things will probably calm down."

"Do you think they'll ever get back to normal?" Ethan looked up at his uncle, hoping that maybe Al knew something he didn't.

The expression on Al's face wasn't the reassurance he wanted. "I hope so, Ethan. I really hope so."

* * *

Franz got back to the apartment late that evening. He didn't mean to take so long, but he had stopped by the store on the way over to pick up milk and the cream Sara said she wanted for the sauce for the vegetables they were making tonight. It had been a very strange day at work. It had been impossible not to hear about Edward Elric's rather sudden change of appearance, and he hoped Sara would have some insight into it that he hadn't been able to get from lousy gossips.

He didn't have to wait. As soon as he walked in the door Sara was pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around him, crying.

"Whoa, whoa, Belle. Let me put these down," Franz dropped the carton on the entry way table and put his arms around her shoulders. "What's wrong, beautiful?"

It was almost a minute before Sara managed to pull herself together enough to look up at him, her blue eyes pools of sadness. "My… Mom left."

"Left! When?" Franz stared at her, startled. He knew things hadn't been great at her parents' place lately. Sara had told him she was worried about her parents, but he hadn't gotten any hints that she thought things were that bad!

"Yesterday," Sara replied shortly, and Franz hugged her tight, stroking her hair. Yesterday had been her birthday.

"I'm sorry, Sara," Franz kissed the top of her head. "I had no idea."

"Yeah," Sara replied bitterly. "I know. Neither did I. Did you see Dad today?"

Franz nodded. "Once. He seemed, well…pretty normal besides the hair cut." Normal for the way he had been since the war anyway.

"That's what I mean," Sara brought her hand up and wiped her eyes. "Mom left, and there he was at work the next morning, on time."

She didn't say anything else but Franz understood what she was getting at. She was mad because her father didn't seem to be horribly upset by the ordeal. At least, not outwardly. He knew Sara and Edward had been very close all her life up until the war. "He's probably just putting on a good front to keep the rumors from going crazy," he suggested, hoping it at least calmed her down. "It will get out soon enough."

"And my parents will be the scandal of the week," Sara shook her head and stepped back. "This isn't fair! Why now? Why _them_?"

"Calm down," Franz replied, continuing to soothe his distraught fiancée. Not that he blamed her. He would have been just as upset if his parents' split. He had thought, as a boy, that it had come close to that a couple of times after the Drachman dispute. "Give it time. Let everyone's tempers cool and frayed nerves mend."

"I'm trying," Sara sniffled. "I swear I am, but right now all I really want to do is go over to the house and punch Dad's lights out."

"Why are you so ready to blame him for this?" Franz asked. _That _concerned him.

"Because," Sara said as she picked up a tissue to blow her nose, "Every time I've seen them have communication issues in the past it was Dad's fault."

Franz really hoped things cooled off _fast_.

**February 8****th****, 1953**

Winry cried all the way to Resembool. At least, it certainly felt like it. She felt guilt-ridden and miserable for the entire trip, and she barely slept or ate. The look on Edward's face as she told him she was leaving and walked out haunted her if she tried to close her eyes and rest. But she really hadn't been able to come to any other solution. He wouldn't listen to her or take what she offered; he wouldn't offer any support when she needed it, and she just couldn't watch him purposefully tear himself apart again. She wasn't that strong.

What she hadn't been getting was time and perspective. Now, hopefully, away from the stress and immediate strain of dealing with things and failing to cope, she could finally get a little time to figure herself out. There was something wrong with her too, and until she knew what it was and could help herself, she would be of even less help to Edward.

When she wasn't curled up in her berth under a blanket staring out the window, Winry walked the train, drank a lot of tea, and tried not to _think_ for a few days. Books couldn't hold her attention; neither could newspapers or anything else. Often she would simply watch the countryside roll past the cars, becoming ever more familiar. It was a train trip she had made dozens of times, but it had been a long time since she had made it by herself. Ever since coming back from Europe, she had never made it without her husband.

The simplest things sent her into tears again. By the time the train finally pulled up in Resembool in the mid-afternoon several days later, Winry thought she might finally be cried out. Or at least, that was what she told herself. She knew better.

Aldon was waiting for her at the train station. It was an amazing relief to feel the strong arms of her son wrap around her as Winry hugged him tightly. "Welcome back, Mom," Aldon said quietly.

"Thank you," Winry whispered in reply. Gathering herself, she stood up and managed a weak smile. "Where are Cassie and the boys?"

"Up at the house," Aldon replied, smiling. "She thought you might want a quiet reception."

Winry nodded. "I appreciate it. Though I don't know if you'll be enough to carry all my things to the house," she chuckled softly. "I didn't pack light I'm afraid."

"That's okay," Aldon chuckled. "I arranged for the station to have it delivered up later by car if that's all right."

"That's wonderful," Winry said. Aldon was always the thoughtful, most calming one of her children. Well, they were all thoughtful, but Aldon was the one that tended to remind her more of Alphonse than Edward; and much more like her. It was the Rockbell in him. Perhaps that was why he and Cassie had taken such a strong liking to Resembool. "Life seems to be treating you well," she commented as Aldon offered her his arm and they walked up the road towards the house.

"Thanks, Mom," Aldon shrugged, but he looked pleased. Really, Winry was glad to see him looking well. He looked a little tired, but with two young children that was to be expected! His hair was a little longer than he had kept it growing up, but she had gotten used to that when he came back to Central from Briggs. His arms were still solidly muscled from the work he did, as was the rest of him. His build really was less like Ed's now; being taller and a little broader. He looked a little more like her own father, from what she remembered and pictures. "I hope you don't mind," he said a moment later, looking nervous, "But I thought I should warn you that we've made some repairs and improvements to the house."

"Improvements?" Winry looked at him with one arched eyebrow.

Aldon shrugged. "Nothing drastic. But the roof needed replacing, and some of the floors have been refinished. We painted some, and of course Cassie had a lot of fun decorating the boys' room."

"I'm sure everything's fine," Winry replied reassuringly. "We did say the house was yours after all." It was nice to have it lived in again, with a growing happy family, like it should have.

The best part about coming home though was, of course, her family. Winry hugged Cassie enthusiastically and was warmed by her daughter-in-law's eager return hug. Coran ran out to see her, clinging to her legs, bouncing and repeating "Granny's here! Granny's here!" until Cassie sent him inside to play.

As she anticipated, the changes Aldon had made were primarily functional, and Winry liked all of them. The roof looked the same, only newer, and the entire exterior of the house, including the decks, had been sanded and repainted. The trim was still white, and the house was still yellow. Inside, all of the wood floors had been stripped, sanded, and refinished. There was new trim on a lot of the doors, and the bathrooms had been _updated._

The old auto-mail workshop was only a little changed. The sterile room for surgeries and such remained unchanged since Aldon _did _do a lot of general maintenance for customers who found it easier to travel to Resembool. The rest of the workshop had been turned into his design area and there was a large shed out back where he kept his actual inventions and projects. "Cassie likes the loud work done outside the house," Aldon chuckled.

The boys' bedroom was indeed a delightful space, painted with fanciful creatures on the walls in a full mural and a sky full of stars on the ceiling.

"I also upgraded a lot of the wiring," Aldon said when he finished showing her the house. "It was pretty old."

"And probably unsafe," Winry chuckled. "That's a good thing. The house looks wonderful, Aldon," she said as she sat in the rocking chair in the living room – which did have new furniture and had been repainted, though it was just a slightly warmer shade of cream – holding Reichart for the first time. The infant boy gurgled and cooed and watched her intently with his eyes. He was still too small to even really smile, but he was beginning to focus on faces, and he watched her intently.

"I'm glad you like it." Aldon was clearly relieved. "We really like the house, and I've always liked it the way it is."

"Nothing stays the same forever," Winry nodded, understanding. She felt a twinge inside and ignored it.

It was too late. Aldon and Cassie had both noticed her momentary disquiet. "How are you _doing,_ Mom?" Aldon finally asked. "Uncle Al called a couple of days ago. Everyone in Central's pretty freaked out."

Winry had been expecting that. She hadn't actually told anyone she was going. All she had told her employees was that she was taking some vacation time and wouldn't be in to the office for a while and to please not call. She would be in touch. It had been so hard not to call Elicia or Riza, but Winry had known that if she did, her resolve would break and she wouldn't be able to do what she felt she had to. "I'll give them a call tomorrow," she promised. She didn't want to face them today. "I need to call Ethan and Sara too." Her daughter was not going to be happy with her.

Aldon nodded. "Ethan called twice, even though he knew you wouldn't have arrived yet."

Winry winced. The worst part right now wasn't even the fact that she had left Edward behind, but that she had left Sara and Ethan without word. Ethan, she suspected, would feel the split most keenly. "Then I'll call him tonight." She fanned herself absently with one hand. It was a little warm.

Aldon nodded, but he looked like he still had something else he wanted to say. It didn't take him more than another few seconds to ask either. "Mom, have you been sick?"

"Well that's an odd question," Winry looked at him curiously. "Why do you ask?"

Aldon and Cassie exchanged a look. It was Cassie who replied. "Just in the time you've been here you've been too hot, too cold, and your movements are, well, a little hesitant."

Cassie was right, Winry was surprised to realize. She had been chilly earlier, now she was over-heating in the same room. She'd had a headache earlier, but lately she got occasional aches in different muscles. "I hadn't thought about it," she admitted. "I mean, I've been a little off for a while, but I thought it was just stress."

"Have you talked to a doctor?" Cassie asked so matter-of-factly that Winry felt embarrassed.

"It never crossed my mind." But why hadn't it? "I've been a little scatter-brained lately too."

That made Cassie nod, as if she had just confirmed some suspicion.

"Am I missing something?" Winry looked between her son and daughter-in-law.

Cassie smiled and shook her head. "Possibly. But I really think you should go talk to the Doctor here at the clinic. I'm sure we can get you an appointment in the next few days. It's mostly colds and fevers this time of year and we haven't been too busy."

"If you think it's for the best," Winry replied, feeling a little skeptical. Still, it was perfectly possible for them to have noticed something she hadn't. Right now, she would take any help she could get!

**February 11****th****, 1953**

Calling home had been surprisingly painful, but over the next couple of days Winry did make several calls. The first two were, naturally, to Ethan and Sara. It hurt to hear her teenage son trying not to cry on the other end of the line, but Winry assured him that she loved him, and that her leaving was not about him. It was just something between her and Ed, and she couldn't promise anything but she _would_ be back in Central eventually. She didn't tell him she would even stay, but he didn't seem to think of that.

Talking to Sara had been harder. Winry had been sure her daughter would blame her for it. Sara had always been a little closer to Edward, but it had pained her to hear Sara place all of the fault squarely on her father's shoulders. He didn't deserve that. She explained why she left as best she could, and was glad when Sara didn't push for more information. Of course, her daughter was trained to know when some things shouldn't be discussed, and Winry was just still too emotionally over-wrought to talk about it for long.

Elicia and Alphonse had just been happy to talk to her and glad to hear that she had made it to Resembool all right. Winry had explained to them roughly the events that had led to her decision, even though she ended up crying for several minutes on the phone.

Riza had been, perhaps unsurprisingly, the most understanding. "It's difficult to live with men who need us that much just to get by," she said softly. "Sometimes there's nothing left you can do but salvage your own sanity first. I think you did the right thing." Riza was the only one who made a judgment call outright on it, and Winry appreciated her friend's candor. Riza had put up with Roy's shenanigans and moods and faults for even longer than Winry had dealt with Edward. If anyone understood what she was going through, it was her.

It was reassuring to know that no one was _mad_ at her for the decision she had made, even though Winry knew no one liked it. Heck, _Winry_ didn't like it! But at least she was reassured that she hadn't been nuts to take a break. Someone had to do it for both of their sakes. Winry just hoped that as it helped her see things differently; it would be enough to jar Edward back to his senses.

**February 13****th****, 1953**

"Is she asleep?" Cassie asked softly as Aldon came downstairs from putting Coran to bed. He was grateful their older son was a well behaved toddler; he had gone to bed with minimal fuss and dropped off to sleep immediately.

But then, Cassie wasn't talking about _him._ "Not yet," Aldon admitted with a sigh as he sat down on the end of the couch, watching Cassie, who had Reichart still latched to her breast, though he looked like he was dozing off more than eating. His mother had gone to bed early every night since arriving and, while he didn't mind, it was rough to hear her quietly crying anytime he walked past the closed door. Every night so far she had cried herself to sleep. "I'm still having trouble believing this is happening," he admitted softly. It really was unreal, but he would do everything he could to hold the family together and help his parents get through this. Even if that meant only being able to help his mother and not both of them.

When she had called asking if his offer of a place to stay was still an option Aldon had been thrilled momentarily, until he caught his mother's tone of voice and she had informed him that it would _just_ be her, and she wasn't sure how long it would be for.

Aldon had known things were tense in Central. He would have had to be blind and stupid to miss his mother's unhappiness during the war even from a distance. He had _expected _her to run off to Aerugo and had been glad Ethan nudged her into it. Afterwards, he knew from Sara and Ethan that his parents were dealing with a lot of stress, and he had seen them quarrel before, but he had never thought the situation would reach a point where one or the other would _break_.

Of course he had told his mother to stay with them. Resembool – this house – had been her home and it was a place she would feel safe. It was also the only way Aldon could get a personal feel for the situation and maybe help. His mother was hurting and he was torn. Aldon wasn't mad at anyone, just the situation. He knew full well how badly both of his parents dealt with some things under stress, and how much they both had to be hurting right now. He had never before seen his mother so lost and unhappy.

"Aldon?"

Aldon blinked, taking a moment to realize Cassie had been trying to talk to him. "Sorry," he apologized; standing and coming over as she finished her gesture of _please take the baby._ "I'm just kind of distracted."

"I noticed," Cassie smiled sadly as he took Reichart and she did up her shirt. "It's all right, Don. You're doing everything you can."

"I know," Aldon sighed. "I just wish it wasn't so little."

Cassie stood up and kissed his cheek. "It's a lot more than you seem to think it is," she countered gently. "Your mother isn't alone, but somewhere safe where she's wanted and loved. Isn't that what she needs right now more than anything else?"

Aldon smiled, kissing her back. "It is," he agreed. The problem was, that place should have been at home… with his father.

**February 15****th****, 1953**

It was ironic, Edward thought, that he had spent the last few months hiding at work to avoid the pain and problems that awaited him at home. Now, there was no reason to avoid going home but he still did it most days anyway out of habit. Anything to keep busy; to keep his mind off of Winry for as long as possible.

He took on more of the lectures. It meant staying late most evenings to get his paperwork in, but that was convenient too. It meant he didn't have to spend a lot of private time with anyone who was likely to want to _talk about it. _He got home late, had a drink or two usually, crashed out, got up in the morning and went back to HQ. Life was pretty simple that way. He didn't much feel like cooking. Not for just one person, so sometimes he picked up dinner on the way home. If he was hungry he ate it. Usually, he ate most of his other meals in the Mess. They served breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the soldiers who lived in the barracks after all. That was good enough for him.

He insisted on taking on about half of the combat training classes too. This time of year they were into more advanced training for the majority of cases, and in a fight was where he most easily forgot everything else and focused on the moment. It was refreshing and therapeutic.

When the annuals came around, Ed certainly had no trouble passing them. His physical fitness was pretty top of the game as usual. Doctor Gray had the usual complaint – which was about the same one Stevenson had given Ed for most of his military career – that he was still too thin after the war and he needed to put on a few pounds. Other than an awkward moment where Ed had insisted that they find a _male_ doctor for the more personal parts of the full examination – he didn't care how good Gray was, no woman was getting a look down there – it was relatively uneventful.

It only took a couple of days for the word to get out around Headquarters that Winry had left him. When approached directly, he merely nodded enough to confirm that, yes, he and Winry were no longer together, and left it at that.

What really got to Ed were the rumors. The fact that he was a General and the Fullmetal Alchemist worked against him more dramatically than he would have ever expected. No one knew why Winry had left, and _everyone_ who had no business knowing wanted to know. Every day he heard a different set of rumors. Was it an affair? Was he abusive? At least one woman insisted that her best friend had seen Winry getting on the train looking '_all beaten up._' She meant the bruise Ed was sure, and he vacated before anyone noticed he was there.

They wanted to know if he was violent or if it was a more _intimate _problem. As if Winry would have left over something so petty and stupid! Ed heard them all, and he knew a lot of them were being not-so-quietly quashed by some of his friends who knew him better than that – even if they hadn't actually asked him about it after the first time they each tried and got rebuffed. It was nice to know that someone still cared at least that much.

The wilder rumors were easy to ignore, but when he heard the ones about abuse, affairs, that '_I've heard he drinks excessively_' and _'after the war he just kind of lost it you know_,' Ed thought he _might_ lose it. So he insisted on ignoring all of them. He refused to deny or confirm any of the rumors what-so-ever beyond the basic facts. If asked, the answer was _no comment. _

He saw the shock in Alphonse's eyes the one time they were accosted by a reporter for the Central Times while walking between Lab 1 and HQ. She was pushy, with a recorder at the ready for a good sound bite, and begged to know the real story.

"Everyone keeps saying you're washed up, General, that your wife left you for sleeping around, that you beat her, and that you have problems. But what's the truth? Are you really going to let them drag your good name down the drain if they aren't true?"

Ed just shrugged. "It's no one's damned business but mine and hers. I don't care what people want to say. Nothing they say makes anything more or less true."

"Ed, you didn't even defend yourself," Al said softly as they walked away, clearly shocked. "Or Winry."

"She can defend herself," Ed snorted and walked on a little faster. People just needed to learn to keep their noses out of it. "All I want is to be left alone. How is that difficult for people to understand?"

"You could at least tell them which rumors aren't true," Al said, looking mildly offended.

"They're just rumors, Al. They don't really mean anything." Besides, what did Ed care? If they wanted to try and ruin his career, they would have to come at him with more than words.

**February 18****th****, 1953**

The day the reporter accosted Sara on her walk to her apartment wanting to know the inside scoop on her parents' split Sara nearly came unglued. She would have chewed out the woman if she hadn't had the presence of mind to keep her temper in check. If Franz hadn't been with her, Sara probably _would_ have hit her. She was sick of this! The rumor-mongering and her father's unwillingness to say _anything_ in defense of himself, her mother, or the Elric family name at all! The worst part was she was watching him make the _same damned stupid mistakes_ he had made after the Xing War.

She took her lunch break early the next day in the hopes of catching him in his office. Sara had done her best to give her father a little time to cope and calm down and deal, but it was obvious that – as usually seemed to happen – her father was spectacularly _failing _to cope. "I can't believe you won't say a word in your own defense!" she exclaimed when she went in to talk to him.

"General," Edward replied with a cold stare.

"Fine. I can't believe you, _General_," Sara almost spit the last word. She was sick of his whole new attitude too. He refused to be called even Fullmetal anymore. It was General or Sir and heaven help whoever didn't do it. She knew that the alchemy students in classes with him were terrified of making a mistake or slipping up on that. She had heard he had gone off on a couple of them already; just verbally, but they had come out of it shaken. An angry Edward Elric was an intimidating thing. "Have you even talked to Mom and tried to work things out?"

"If that had worked she wouldn't have left," Ed replied, looking back down at the documents on his desk. "Did you come in here for any real business?"

Sara felt her face turning red. "I think this counts as _real_ business. You can't just conveniently forget about the rest of us! This involves the whole family you know."

Edward frowned. "You should watch how you talk to a superior officer."

"What are you going to do?" Sara scoffed. "Put a letter in my file? Bust me back down to _Major_? Court-martial me?"

"Don't tempt me, Colonel."

She knew he wasn't kidding, but she really didn't care anymore. This was insane. "So now it's not even Twilight. What happened, you give back the watch too, Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"I told you at Headquarters it's General Elric or _Sir_." That glare might have been enough to melt most people into the ground, but Sara was mostly immune to its effects.

"With _all_ due respect, go to hell… Sir." With that, Sara spun on her heel and strode out of the office before she gave in to the urge to punch her_ superior officer_ in the face.


	6. Destruction 2

**February 19****th****, 1953**

Winry stood on the second story balcony of the house, enjoying the feel of a cool breeze and the warm sun as both washed over her. It was a beautiful morning and the guest-and-art room that had once been her bedroom was open to let in the fresh air. For the first morning in a very long time, Winry felt like herself.

Part of it was the view, she knew. Other than a couple of houses in the distance that hadn't been there before, the view outside her old room remained surprisingly unchanged. Mountains in the distance and rolling grass changed with a sure but wonderful slowness.

Another part of it was this house and the peace within it. Instead of just being a reminder of everything she had probably lost for good, it was a reminder of everything happy about her family. Aldon and Cassie had a wonderful relationship; a partnership built on love and trust and open communication. They both did the work and both reaped the benefits. Their sons were obviously happy and healthy, and watching them each day reminded Winry why it was all worth doing in the first place.

What really made Winry feel better though was the mildly amusing reality of her situation. She had been in to see the doctor in the Resembool clinic three times before they ruled out any option besides that one that Cassie had admitted she suspected. Winry wasn't losing her mind, or sick with some bizarre problem. It was entirely natural and it could be handled in the same way. She was just entering another phase of life and she felt silly for having not figured it out earlier.

Menopause; of course! She wasn't the first of the women she knew to go through it by any stretch of the imagination, but Riza had hit it early and was just old enough in comparison that it had been years. Gracia certainly had. Elicia hadn't yet though, and she was the one Winry talked to most of late; at least until now. But it explained so many things that Winry had forgotten she knew; the lack of interest in sex, the hormone related problems, the inexplicable weight gain despite her best attempts to avoid it, and even her high-running emotions and forgetful moments, the aches and pains.

For the past several days Winry had been taking the doctor's advice. He had given her an herbal tea that was – to her amusement – a local remedy, but one that worked well and was safe in relatively large quantities so she didn't have to worry about having too much. All it really did was help keep things even and balanced, but that was a huge help! On top of that, he had recommended more light exercise and whenever she felt hot or twitchy or irritable, she went for a walk. Two very simple things, but both definitely helped. At least Winry now knew for _certain_ that she wasn't going crazy.

"Good morning," Cassie smiled tiredly as she came up beside her, bundled up in a warm robe, with Reichart – wrapped warmly in a blanket – gurgling in her arms. "Someone decided I'd had too much sleep," she chuckled softly.

"I'll take him if you want to go back to bed," Winry offered. Reichart was a darling boy. Of course, most children were darlings at that age. Perhaps it was her body's reaction, but she desperately missed having little ones of her own lately.

"Thanks, Winry, but I'm all right," Cassie shook her head. "I like being up at this hour anyway. Everything's so serene."

"I used to watch the sun rise over those mountains a lot," Winry admitted with a chuckle, "Usually after pulling a long all-nighter in the auto-mail shop." She sipped the cup of tea she held. It really was soothing, and fortunately tasty with honey.

Cassie nodded before going quiet for a few moments. "Winry, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she turned to look at her 'other' daughter. Really, she thought of Cassie as one of her own as much as anyone else. She was family. "What's on your mind?"

"I don't mean to pry," Cassie replied, looking mildly nervous, "But I was wondering how it was, even after everything you've told me, you could really leave Edward? I mean, we lived with you and I saw you two a lot. Everything seemed to be great then. How could something so good fall apart?"

It was a question Winry had been waiting for. "Easily, when it's not taken care of," she replied quietly. "I love Edward. That hasn't changed at all. And I know that, despite the problems we've had lately, he still loves me. But sometimes people change and sometimes they can't see what's right in front of them. When the situation gets too confusing, well you have to take a step back and look at it again or risk losing yourself and everything you love."

She had been thinking about it a lot for the past couple of weeks. "Edward gets very needy when he's in pain; especially emotionally. Yet he shuts down and he doesn't want to let anyone else in while he tries to deal with it on his own. We dealt with the same problem after the Xing tortured him, but he came to his senses fairly quickly relatively speaking. This time…" she sighed and sipped from her cup. "I couldn't be the support he needed. With this," she gestured with the cup to indicate her condition, "and everything else, well I just couldn't handle him on top of having my own difficulties. That never happened before and I only recently realized how much it bothered me that he didn't listen. Edward is a very selfless person in motives, but he also gets very wrapped up in himself and tends to forget that there are other people out there who might feel differently about something than he does unless he's actively butting heads with them."

Cassie listened quietly, nodding occasionally and looking thoughtful and sad. "And no one sees it," she shook her head. "Do you think you can fix things?"

"I hope so," Winry replied honestly. "I feel terrible about leaving. Right now, I expect that Edward might hate me." It was hard to think of him as just _Ed_ anymore. He didn't act the same, and she couldn't bear to think of the man she had been dealing with lately as the same one she had married. "But I think the separation was necessary for both of us, even if he doesn't see it. I know it's something I've _needed._" She felt guilty for that too; but as much as she missed Edward and the rest of the family, the last couple of weeks had been an amazing relief. That in itself told her how much she had already been working to distance herself and prepare to break it off, as painful as it was to admit. "I hope we can fix things, but to do that, Edward's going to have to offer up his fifty percent." They had promised each other an equal partnership, and that balance had shifted surely over time ever since. It was time to rebalance the scales.

"And if he doesn't?" Cassie asked.

Winry sighed. The very idea brought tears to her eyes. She still cried every night, and she knew she would for a long time to come. "If he can't then it's over." She would always love Edward Elric, but if he kept going the way he was, than the boy she had fallen for and the man he had become were lost; not just to her, but to the world. It was a cruel irony that even now she thought that the latter might be the greater loss.

**February 23****rd****, 1953**

There were some stresses in life that Alphonse could really do without. The biggest one always seemed to come down to keeping his older brother from doing something stupid, rash, or possibly destructive. Over the years, the number of incidents decreased, but the monument of those that occurred seemed to grow.

This time, Al was much more afraid that they were losing whatever remained of Ed inside that thick skull of his. He seemed determined to be anything _but_ the man Alphonse had grown up with and yet, what happened was that he simply became a strange conglomeration of someone else and all the things about Edward that were less appealing and drove people crazy.

He was sullen and withdrawn if Al tried to catch him in private, or irritable and volatile. Their students were scared of him and since Ed seemed to want everyone to leave him alone a lot of people happily did just that. There was a scant handful or two of people who still made any effort to reach out to him at all and try to help.

Alphonse and Elicia were the primary two. Al had invited Ed over for dinner several times but Ed always politely declined. There was no way his brother had _that_ much work to do. Al knew he was just putting them off. That was exactly what had him so worried. When Ed didn't want _Al_ around, something was definitely wrong.

So Al determined to try again. As usual, the only place to corner Ed was either at home in the evening or at work. The one time Al had tried to go to Ed's house, Ed had simply refused to answer the door and kept it locked. Al couldn't actually be certain that Ed had been awake at the time, but it had been barely eight o'clock and Ed's car had been parked out front.

So work it was. This time, Al tried catching Ed right before the end of the work day. "Hey Ed," he smiled as he closed the door behind him. "I'm here for my almost-daily declination of our offer to come to dinner."

"Very funny," Ed replied flatly, glancing up at him from his desk. If it weren't for the fact that Al knew Ed was teaching half the combat classes he would have sworn his brother's rear end was glued to that chair. "What do you want?"

"I told you," Al sighed. "Why won't you come over anymore, Ed? We don't hate you, and we haven't abandoned you. You're family."

"Your loyalty is refreshing," Ed quipped sarcastically, "Though I'm not sure I understand it. If Winry doesn't want me, why should you?"

"That's flawed logic," Al scowled. They had had this argument in various forms lately, but this was a new take on it. "Why would you even think that?"

Ed actually looked up at him. "I saw it coming, Al, remember? And there was still nothing I could do to stop it."

"Yeah, you're the freaking king of self-fulfilling prophesies, Ed," Al snapped back at him. He was quickly losing his temper with his brother's bull-headed stubbornness. "Why didn't you tell me things were so bad earlier?"

"Oh what could _you_ have done, Alphonse?" Ed set his pen down and glared at him. "Were you going to ask Winry to _sleep_ with me? To forgive me for the millionth time for taking advantage of her patience? To stick with some warmongering killer who can't keep his temper enough to keep from_ hitting _her?"

"That's just it," Al shook his head. "That's not you, Ed. _This_ isn't you."

"Sure it is," Ed smirked, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes; of fatalistic acceptance that was also just _not_ Ed, except that this was Ed and that was what made it so disturbing. "I'm the military's dog. I'm _alchemy's_ dog. Once, sure, I would never have done the things I have. At least I thought so. But I was just deluding myself." He shrugged and bent back over his paperwork. "If you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

Al couldn't stand listening to Ed tear himself down like that; to think that Ed actually _believed_ this crap about himself. "Ed –"

"I've got everything under control, Al."

That did it. Al lost his temper. "_Under control_? Winry _left,_ Edward! You're avoiding everybody and all of HQ is walking on pins and needles. You don't even talk to your _family_! How is that even remotely under control? You're the one isolating yourself, Ed. You certainly don't need help from anyone else to do that."

Ed's irritated glance in his direction was only that much more infuriating for it's lack of fire. "Damn you've gotten preachy. Shut up, Al. You don't get it do you?" He explained too calmly. "Well I'll spell it out for you. _I don't care._ Is that clear enough?"

"You don't mean that." How could he?

Ed rolled his eyes. "Are you just going to be another one of those people telling _me_ what _I_ feel, Alphonse? How can you possibly know what I'm going through? You're a selfless, gentle, giving person with a family who loves you. "

"You still have that," Al objected. "You act like this is over."

"It is, Al." Ed sighed. "I'm not going to keep Winry from the happiness she deserves. See you tomorrow." It was a clear dismissal. Ed wasn't just stubborn, he was a wall. When he got tired of arguing he simply shut down and stopped listening.

Al left. Yeah, he had Elicia, and his wonderful kids, but what Al didn't have anymore was the brother who didn't realize that he still meant the world to him… and to the rest of his family.

**February 24****th****, 1953**

Sara planned to wait until after dinner to bring it up. Franz came home in a good mood and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin it. She tried to pretend she enjoyed the food and discussion of the wedding and the day in general, but really all it did was make what she had to say that much more difficult.

"Sara," Franz cut her off during dessert as she babbled aimlessly about what had gone on in the office that day "What's wrong?" He reached out with his hand and took her left one in his right, giving it a squeeze.

He was too perceptive. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about," Sara replied after hesitating for several seconds. "But I'm not sure how to begin."

"I gathered," he replied with a bemused expression. "I don't recall you ever being this interested in type-settings."

Sara felt her face flush. He was waiting on her now though. It took everything she had to meet his eyes. "I was wondering if you would mind if we… postponed the wedding? I still _want _to get married," she added hurriedly. She didn't want him to doubt that! "I just can't deal with all this stress right now. It's too much."

The flash of hurt in Franz's eyes lasted only a moment, but it made her heart ache. "I was kind of expecting this," he admitted with a sigh. He gave her a weak smile. "It's okay, Belle. I don't want to push you into anything when you're not ready."

"It's not that," Sara shook her head vehemently. The wave broke and words flooded out in a torrent. "It's just… right now I don't even know if I can get my parents in the same room! And I can't imagine getting married without both of them there. I just never figured that this kind of thing could happen to them and I—"A sob broke from her lips and she stopped. Damn it. She hated crying in front of anyone, even Franz. She was supposed to be strong!

Franz's hand tightened on hers. "Sara, sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. Whether we get married in three months or three years, I know where I want to be and who with. What's happening is a really lousy situation. You wouldn't be _you_ if this wasn't hard. Right now your family needs our focus and support."

Sara wiped her eyes with her free hand. "Are you sure you're real?" she managed a smile through the tears. He was so understanding sometimes she couldn't believe he was hers.

"If not than you have some rather fantastic fantasies in bed that I'm privy too," Franz teased, his smile broadening.

"Thank you," Sara said. "I was afraid you would think I was changing my mind."

Franz chuckled. "Belle, if there's one thing I've learned in the past eleven years, it's that almost _nothing_ changes your mind, and I've never seen anything that could change your heart."

**February 26****th****, 1953**

Winry felt her heart sink as she listened to her daughter on the phone. "Postpone the wedding? But you've been planning for months."

"I know, Mom," Sara replied on the other end. "But I just can't imagine getting married without you and Dad both there, and I don't want either of you to be uncomfortable coming. However long that takes, Franz and I are willing to wait."

Guilt nagged her, but Winry pushed it aside. "That's very thoughtful, Sara, and I appreciate it, but are you sure?"

"We're sure," Sara affirmed. "Right now I can't even get Dad to talk to me as anything other than a Colonel. I don't think he even remembers we're _getting_ married," she added, sounding disappointed.

"Oh I'm sure he hasn't forgotten," Winry soothed. She didn't hear much about Edward lately. Most folks didn't seem inclined to bring him up unless she did, and she hadn't asked much. "He's probably wrapped up in things, as usual."

"Yeah right." Sara sighed then sounded like she was doing her best to get back to being upbeat. "I'm glad you're doing better. We really miss you."

"I miss you too," Winry smiled, trying not to cry. At least she knew now that her emotional over-responses were not entirely a function of her own feelings. "My best to Franz."

"Sure. Thanks. Love you, Mom. 'Bye."

"Good bye," Winry said as the line clicked. She hung up the phone then went outside and around the back of the house to the large shed that housed Aldon's workshop. It was actually a fairly solid structure; a real building he had erected that was hidden from the road by the house. He had even roofed and painted it to match the house.

The interior was full of tool racks, benches and counters, bins of screws and nuts and bolts and standardized pieces, and one entire wall was a reasonably well organized pile of miscellaneous scrap metal parts.

When she entered, Aldon was on the ground on his back, his body wedged almost completely inside his latest contraption. Only his knees down were visible. "And just what is this thing supposed to be?" Winry chuckled, leaning against the edge of one of the counters; the back of which came to her shoulder height.

"Well the Spring Sheep Festival's coming soon," Aldon's voiced echoed metallically from inside the thing. "And I've been trying to build something that will _safely_ shear sheep faster than doing it by hand."

"A machine that shears sheep," Winry chuckled. "Now there's a useful invention to have around here."

"That was my thought," Aldon sounded pleased with himself. "The way I have it set up it _should_ work. The blades have guides and guards to keep them from cutting into the sheep itself, and with the walls it catches all the wool on its own. The sheep can be easily tethered in to hold still too."

"So what are you working on?" Winry asked, thoroughly enjoying the explanation. From what she could see it ought to work pretty well.

"Getting the arms with the shears to work just right," Aldon admitted, chuckling. "I'm supplying the electricity instead of body impulses, but I've been trying to alter auto-mail technology to make the movements more accurate."

He'd had her at machine, but that was even more interesting. "Do you want some assistance?" she offered, looking at the arms and hands that held the shears.

"Would you?" Aldon asked eagerly. He moved about two inches, then Winry heard a small bang and a grunt. "Umm…first, could you pull me out? I think I'm stuck."

"A smart inventor always makes the access spaces big enough for herself," Winry laughed as she bent down and tugged at her son's ankles. He was lying on a wheeled board, so it only took a moment to get him unstuck and slide him out enough that he could get himself out the rest of the way.

"It was when I started this thing," Aldon admitted with a laugh, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder where he banged it. "But I needed to add a couple of components and I forgot to take myself into account on the second go."

"And here I thought it was because of Cassie's cooking," Winry teased; the widest part of her son was still his shoulders.

"Different problem," Aldon said as he stood up. "But yeah, if you can help me with this I think we could get it done in time."

"Let me take a look," Winry grabbed an apron off the rack, gloves, and a couple of tools before climbing up onto the machine to get at the auto-mail engineered parts. She opened up the casings so she could take a look inside.

"So what did Sara want?" Aldon asked as he got out of the way, coming around so he could watch her work.

"She and Franz are postponing the wedding," Winry replied as she fiddled with some of the wiring. "They want your Dad and I both there."

"And is that a problem?" Aldon scowled.

Winry sighed. "I wouldn't have thought so." After all, she could keep a civil tongue in public, and she certainly didn't hate him. Separating wasn't the end of the world. Technically it wasn't even the end of the marriage.

"Is Dad causing problems?" Aldon asked.

"I don't know what he is or isn't doing," Winry replied honestly. "Al says all he ever seems to do is work. He's teaching classes and working late and behaving uncompanionably." This meant, in other words, that nothing had changed since she left.

Aldon sighed, leaning back against the wall. "He won't talk to me. Or at least, not for long if I can catch him at all. If I call the house I usually don't get an answer at all anymore."

"Neither does Al." Winry hated getting the news she did, but it only seemed to confirm that she couldn't have handled staying. She wasn't surprised by any of Edward's behavior and she hadn't been able to stop it. "But Sara said they want to wait until things are more settled whatever way things go." She got back to a slightly safer topic. "If that's what she wants I'm certainly not going to argue with her about it."

"I guess it's a good thing we hadn't bought train tickets yet," Aldon sighed. "Poor Sis."

"It looks like your system has three primary problems," Winry said, stepped back from the arms. "The first is that you aren't using enough power. The next is that wiring isn't going to take the amount of power you need to really make this perform with the dexterity you want. The third is that you need to segment the arms _here,"_ she tapped one of the casings. "This doesn't have to be worn on a person so you don't have to worry about it being a functional human arm. Putting in another elbow essentially here would make it much easier for the system to reach the belly of the sheep."

Aldon's eyes lit up and he nodded. "You're right. I hadn't thought about that. Any other suggestions, maestro?" he teased.

Winry shrugged modestly, but then couldn't resist an impish grin. "If you really want to hear them I've got a list of at least five."

Aldon laughed and they down to some serious work. It was wonderful to get her hands on a new project again, and something that would be worth while that required Winry to be more inventive than her usual work. That she could dive into it with her son really made it special. It was good to forget about everything else for a little while.

**March 4****th****, 1953**

"Please talk to him, Roy. Maybe you can get him to see sense," Riza pleaded.

"What makes you think he'll listen to me?" Roy asked incredulously. He hated it when Riza used that particular look; he was vulnerable to it and always ended up saying yes.

Fortunately Riza's expression changed to a scowl. "Okay, so he probably won't. Still, you _owe_ him."

"Please, Dad?" Maes chimed in. "This is really hard on Sara."

"For Winry?" Riza added.

"That's not playing fair," Roy objected looking between his wife and his son. Elena, who stood a little bit off, shrugged at him. "You _are_ friends right?"

"Everyone's against me! Fine," Roy caved. "But just for the record, when he tells me to shove it _I told you so._"

At least, that was the way Roy remembered the conversation the night before as he walked through the halls of Central HQ the next afternoon. He had come over after his lecture got out at the University. He was also covering some of the history lectures for the State program, so he had business over here anyway.

It still felt a little strange to walk these halls in a regular suit and tie, though it amused Roy that even without his rank on just about everyone would jump to and salute when he went by. He enjoyed the notoriety and accepted it graciously.

He just wished the man behind the door gave him as much thought.

"Don't even start with the I-told-you-sos, Mustang," was the Fullmetal Alchemist's opening statement the moment the door closed. "I've heard enough to last me a life time."

Roy hated being right sometimes. "That's not what I came to say."

"Then what do you need?" Edward _deigned_ to look up at him then.

It had been a while since Roy had seen the other alchemist up close, and he had to resist reacting outwardly. "Does everything have to be about work?" Did the man sleep anymore? Roy had seen that face before… in the mirror.

Ed met his eye with a dead even gaze. "Well there doesn't seem to be anything else to talk about."

_Damned irritating…kid._ Ed was good at getting under his skin with just the right phrasing. "Stop imitating me," Roy scowled. "You're lousy at it."

"I think it's pretty dead on," Ed shrugged, his mouth twisting into an ironic smile. "Havoc said once I made a great warrior but a lousy soldier. Guess I showed him, right? Now I'm just like the rest of them."

"No you're not," Roy snorted. "Even a broken soldier has more common sense."

"Like trying to off themselves or bring back the dead?" Ed arched one eyebrow.

"I said soldier, not alchemist," Roy grumbled. This was not going well at all. Maybe he could get a reaction out of him the way he used to. That had worked for years. "Who do you think you're fooling, Ed, pretending to be a good little military dog now? And don't even pull that 'call me General' crap with me either because you know I won't put up with your sorry-ass attitude and over-blown ego. Neither one of us is perfect; you're right. But at least I haven't taken complete leave of my senses!"

"It's getting a little _hot_ in here, isn't it Flame?" Ed asked with a disconcertingly cool smirk. Roy wondered briefly if this was what it felt like to be on the other end of his own asinine little mental games he used to play with some of his subordinates; especially Ed. No wonder the kid had hated him.

Roy had the startling realization that he was really going to lose this argument. Mostly because Ed wouldn't even come to it. "This is pathetic," he sighed and shook his head. "What _happened_ to you, Edward? This isn't just about recent events." It would take more than that, he thought, to break the man.

"I finally took a moment to really listen to myself," Ed shrugged. "And you know what? I found out I don't really like what I had to say anymore than anyone else did. Now if you don't have anything else worth saying I've got work to do."

He was being _dismissed_ just like that. In the past –_years_ in the past – Roy would have found that completely unacceptable, but they had been different then. Edward the boy doing this would have been insubordination. Now it merely felt like the betrayal of an occasionally strange but very deep friendship. "No, kid, I think that's all I've got," Roy straightened up and refused to let his real emotions show anymore. As satisfying as wringing Ed's neck might have been, it wouldn't actually solve anything. He turned away and headed for the door. "If you ever grow out of this pathetic temper tantrum you're throwing give me a call. Oh yeah, and don't forget to change your socks. You _reek_ of denial and guilt," he added as a parting shot on his way out the door. "It tends to tip off your subordinates that you're a real loser. Eventually they figure it out. But then, you know all about that don't you?"

It might be the worst come-back of his life, but Roy was still too shocked and – yes even hurt – to come up with something better. The door closing behind him felt ominous, stupid as that was.

Roy wondered when the breaking point would come.

**March 5****th****, 1953  
**

It was just easier to convince everyone else he didn't care. As long as no one talked about it at work, Edward could hold up during the day. He threw himself into his work and meetings and ignored the fact that there was still a world outside the walls of Central HQ. He had duty and he could hide in it. A wall of relatively emotionless expression, irritation, and endless evasion through quips and sarcasm frustrated even the most resilient who still tried to push their way in. The problem was, Ed didn't _want_ them involved.

The _truth_ was that Ed couldn't get Winry out of his head. At home at night was the worst. Alone in the house, he found no solace without unconsciousness and little there. Winry was there in his thoughts, in his dreams; in the very absence of her presence she haunted him like a living ghost.

For years – he scoffed at himself – Ed had never been one to cry easily. He had always considered it a sign of weakness and a waste of emotion. It had struck him at times that when others felt no shame in it, and cried easily for pains he knew he should cry for, he couldn't shed a drop.

Now the tears came so easily it was pathetic. Every night from the night Winry left he was sure to find himself sobbing like an abandoned child. The most precious thing in his life, the most beautiful vibrant being, the one who had held him up and supported him while he trampled her emotions in the dirt…was gone. He had lost everything including the will to go on.

Ed _knew _what was wrong with him. He didn't need some counselor, or Alphonse, or Roy frickin' Mustang to tell him that. He was broken, plain and simple. Day by day he limped through life in a haze of anger, sorrow, and often apathy. At night he lay in bed – if he made it past the couch – and lost himself in the visions of dancing blue eyes and golden hair, and the illusory sounds of auto-mail being built. There were thousands of memories, maybe millions, which he could wade through. He never ran out of material to torment himself with.

And he cried. He couldn't quell the constant ache, the one that ate him up from the inside out. It killed his appetite and sucked the joy from everything he had loved. He knew Sara was furious with him, and Ethan very possibly afraid of him. He avoided them now as purposefully as he avoided any personal conversations. He was too ashamed to face them. It was better if they didn't have to put up with him like this anyway.

If Ed had been braver, he would have cut his loses and left, gone off somewhere and maybe tried to forget how badly he'd botched everything. But he knew that wouldn't work anyway. All running away would do was remind him even more of everything he had thrown away. He had nothing left of value. What good was alchemy? What good was being a State Alchemist, or a General who had personally killed innocents with his skills?

He couldn't hide forever. Eventually things would explode in his face again. Ed knew that. But he didn't know how to fix things and even if he did, that required the ability to make himself care. Perhaps that was what bothered Ed most; the strange dichotomy in his head that mourned the loss of the woman he loved most, and yet the bizarre disconnect that seemed to click in from time to time that said it was just easier not to care. As long as everyone else thought he was moving on with his life, what did it matter anymore if he didn't? What did it matter if he fell apart as long as he did it quietly and of his own free will?

Why hadn't anyone ever told him that it wasn't just the heart that broke, but the spirit?


	7. Destruction 3

**March 23****rd****, 1953  
**

Central High School wasn't the only high school in Central, but it was the oldest and the biggest. A big, two story, rambling complex of hallways and classrooms that Ethan had become intimately familiar with in what was just a little under two years. His sophomore year would be over in a couple of months, though he was taking several courses that were for the upper classes. He wasn't the only one. His cousin Alyse was doing the same thing and that meant that they had several classes together.

The school was a loud, crowded place between classes, but that made it easier in some ways for Ethan to vanish into the waves of students making their way in every direction. Lately he just didn't feel like talking as much. His family, of course, knew what was going on and Alyse didn't talk about it at school, and his closest friends knew about his parents' split, but he hadn't talked about it with anyone else. He hadn't even mentioned it to his teachers; that or the fact that he was living at Aunt Gracia's. He didn't want sympathy and he didn't want to concern anyone unnecessarily. He knew there were rumors all over the place, but he wasn't going to confirm or deny them unless someone brought them up to him directly.

He was lost in thought when a hand on the collar of the open collared shirt he wore over his t-shirt stopped him cold.

"Hold up there, Elric," an unwanted familiar voice smirked. "I want a word."

"What's it today, York?" Ethan sighed and looked up into the face of Paul York. The guy was a typically average kid and a bit of a bully. Ethan figured he might be okay except that Paul and his friends seemed to take singular delight in picking on all the Elrics because they were alchemists and _officer's brats_. Paul's father had never even made Sergeant in his entire military career.

Ethan wasn't afraid of the guy and his friends. They usually kept to verbal taunts and Ethan knew if it ever came to a fight he could easily lick them all as long as he didn't get stuck in a corner.

"I hear interesting things," Paul was grinning sadistically. "I hear your Mom skipped town 'cause your Dad beat her. Or maybe it's the other way around?"

Ethan didn't know what snapped, but two seconds later he had Paul York by the collar instead and pinned up against a bank of lockers. It wasn't the first time Paul had gotten onto the topic of his parents, but it was definitely the most blatantly insulting. "How dare you?" He growled and Paul's face went pale. Obviously he hadn't expected the 'skinny little Elric kid' to be that strong. Paul had four inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle on Ethan. "If you ever say something like that again York I swear I'll-"

"Ahem."

Ethan froze and Paul's face got even whiter. Setting his opponent down, Ethan turned around slowly and found himself looking up into the face of the Vice Principal.

"That will be enough gentlemen," the middle-aged balding man scowled at them both. "York, get to class. Mister Ranimen will see you in detention this afternoon. You, Mister Elric, come with me."

Ethan swallowed, then bent down and picked up his books that he'd apparently dropped when he grabbed Paul. Great, this was _just _what he needed today. Fortunately his next period was lunch so at least he wasn't going to be late for class. He followed Vice Principal Hodgkins back to his office.

"Have a seat, Mister Elric," Hodgkins gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he sat down in his own.

Ethan would have preferred to stand for sentencing, but he did as he was told. He might as well get this over with. "I'm sorry, Mister Hodgkins. I don't know what came over me." In the last two years he had never once actually reacted to any of Paul's childish taunts. They hadn't really bothered him. These were different though.

"He was insulting your parents," Hodgkins replied evenly. "I heard the whole thing."

That meant that he had seen the whole thing too. Ethan swallowed. "I still shouldn't have lost my temper like that, sir." He had better self control than that, and better training.

Hodgkins sighed and his expression eased from stony to generally stern. "You are not normally one of my _problems_, Mister Elric. Assure me that you won't do it again and I'll let you off this time."

The man was legendary for his harsh punishments. Ethan bowed respectfully, not believing his luck but not daring to question it either. "I promise. Thank you, sir."

"Good. Now get out of here," Hodgkins waved one hand, and Ethan thought he saw a small smile as he turned and left the room, amazed and relieved that he had gotten nothing more than a warning.

Not that he would ever tell anyone about it except maybe Alyse. Well, and Lia. He told her almost everything that happened in his letters. Her replies always lifted his spirits.

Ethan glanced at the hallway clock. If he hurried he could just barely grab food and eat before his next class. He picked up the pace and headed for the cafeteria.

**April 1****st****, 1953**

Edward preferred to think it was the dumping rain that convinced him to stop on the way home instead of going back to the house. Really, he just needed a change of venue. There was no actual excuse for why he was sitting in this slum of a bar on the far end of town well out of his usual way home other than that it fit his mood.

The place was pretty empty. It was dinner time for most of Central, and the bars didn't usually fill up until after. Ed ordered a gin and tonic and ignored the few other customers in the place. The bar was quiet, dark, and it wasn't the big, achingly empty house.

It seemed though that there was someone in the place who didn't want to leave _him_ alone. A busty thirty-something brunette in a low-cut red dress settled onto the stool next to him. She ordered a scotch then smiled. "Hey there, handsome. You look glum. Want a little company?"

"No thanks." Hopefully she would take the hint.

She chuckled and didn't. "Well I do," she replied with a cool but interested glance in his direction. "And this is my usual seat, so if you find me that offensive you might want to find somewhere else to sit."

It wasn't worth the effort of moving. Ed shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"I usually do," she chuckled. "By the way, I'm Gwen."

Ed continued to work on his drink. He had meant it when he said he didn't want to be bothered. If he wanted conversation there were plenty of people who would be happy to talk at him for a while. He was just tired of people expecting responses in return.

Gwen's drink arrived. She sipped it and continued to watch him. "No offense, but isn't a dump like this a little low-class for you?" Apparently she recognized him for what he was, if not who.

Ed shrugged, focused on the glass in his hand. "It fits my mood."

"You could come back to my place," she suggested, laying one smooth, well-manicured hand on his right arm. "You look like you could use some cheering up."

"I'm married," he replied flatly.

The woman shook her head. Her brown curls bounced, framing a pretty heart-shaped face and full lips. "That's not what I heard. Oh don't give me that look," she added when he glared. "I'm not saying anything that's not true. You shouldn't let it get you so down, and don't let one bad apple spoil the entire pie. There are plenty of women who'd _love_ to keep_ you _company."

Plenty of women, sure, but what was the point? All they would do was fail to satisfy him. None could compare to the woman he had lost. "If you ever call my wife a bad apple again…" Ed growled and stood up before he did something violently foolish. He tossed payment and a tip on the bar and took the whole bottle of gin. "You'll find out for yourself why I'm here alone."

The woman looked taken aback, but Ed didn't care. He turned and strode out of the bar. She didn't get it. None of them did or probably ever would. If he couldn't have Winry, he didn't want anyone else. Not ever.

**April 4****th****, 1953  
**

Winry had always enjoyed the Spring Sheep Festival in Resembool though it had been more years than she cared to count since she had been in the village to attend it. Her memories of the event included some favorites from her childhood, going back to when her parents were alive and they would bring her down to the festival grounds and let her play games and see the new lambs and have a good time. Like any good fair out in the country there were plenty of competitions and such that went along with the tradition.

Seeing it again, especially with family, was a joy. Winry had not expected to enjoy herself as much as she found herself doing as she was dragged back and forth by Coran, who insisted on latching onto his Granny's hand and refused to go anywhere without her! Aldon and Cassie took turns carrying Reichart and followed along behind. The shearing demonstration was first and Aldon's machine worked beautifully. Winry felt smugly satisfied to know that Rockbell-Elric ingenuity had not lost any of its creativity or diluted down a generation. She had enjoyed helping Aldon with the final tweaks to the machine.

"That was great," Aldon chuckled as he picked up a bottle of that season's prize winning mead at one of the stalls. "A congratulatory indulgence," he winked at Cassie who just shrugged and smiled. "You want one, Mom? You helped."

"No thank you," Winry shook her head. The feeling of a job well done and her son's appreciation were enough.

"My treat," Aldon shook his head. "No? All right. You'll have a taste of mine." He paid for just the one and they started off to see everything else.

"If you insist," Winry chuckled. She had never actually had any of the locally brewed beverages Resembool had to offer. She had been too young – and uninterested – when she lived here. She took the bottle her son offered and sipped. It was a sweet, mellow flavor, rich and warm. "That is nice," she admitted as she handed the bottle back.

"Told you," Aldon chuckled.

Coran wanted to see the sheep so that was where they started. "Mama, I want a sheep!" he exclaimed after petting the lambs.

"We don't need a sheep," Cassie replied with a patient chuckle. "Where would you keep one?"

"In the bedroom," Coran replied insistently.

"But sheep sleep in barns," Winry pointed out, "And you don't have a barn."

"Daddy can build one!"

Aldon shook his head. "Daddy has other work to do, kiddo," he smiled, scooping his son up his arms. "And sheep are a lot of responsibility. Do you want to clean up sheep poop?"

"Ewwwww," Coran stuck his tongue out. "No!"

"Then no sheep," Cassie gave the final word on the matter. "How about pie instead?"

Coran's face lit up. "I'm hungry."

"You always are," Aldon commented. "All right, let's go sample the finest food in Resembool."

There were tables of food set out for judging; pies and other pastries, preserves from the winter, dishes made from mutton specifically, and the new batches of mead and beer that had been brewing all winter long. Once the judging was over, it was all open for sampling!

Winry sat at a picnic table that had been set up and watched Coran munch his way through two slices of pie, a candied apple, and two or three different varieties of pickled vegetables.

"I swear he's not always this much of a piglet," Aldon said, sitting down next to her with his own plate of food, and setting one down in front of Winry. Cassie had briefly found a quiet corner to feed her hungry infant. "He does this before every growth spurt."

"I know," Winry smiled at her son. "You did the same you know, and Sara and Ethan did too. So did Alphonse and Edward when they were younger."

"You used to come to the festival with them didn't you?" Aldon asked softly.

Winry nodded and, despite the sadness in her heart whenever she thought about Edward, the memories were happy ones. "Our parents would let us run all over on festival days. We played with the other children and enjoyed watching the games and competitions, and then we would sit and eat like this." She watched her grandson. "I think Edward would have tried to finish off the entire fair, but his mother always stopped him."

Coran seemed to have finished. At least, his plate was empty, his little belly was bulging, and his eyes were beginning to have that droopy look that signified a toddler about to fall asleep in the near future. It was definitely getting close to nap time.

"That would have been something to watch," Aldon chuckled. "I have to admit that when we first got here I wasn't sure how long we would stay. Cassie and I both grew up in the city and while we liked the wilderness up at Briggs, the Fort itself was almost a city out of necessity. I mean I liked coming here to visit as a kid," he shrugged, "but then I couldn't imagine growing up out in the country. Thanks for suggesting it, Mom. I don't think we could be happier anywhere than where we are now."

"You're welcome," Winry replied, touched by her son's earnest thanks. "I love Resembool. For a long time, I couldn't understand how the boys could stay away for so long without coming home, or why they thought it wasn't theirs anymore. I knew I would leave for a while eventually for training, and I did, but I always planned to come back and keep working with Granny." She had done just that once. Her entire life had been determined and changed by her own choice to follow Edward and Alphonse and support them however she could.

"So where is home now, Mom?"

That was a good question. At the moment, Winry wasn't sure if she had one, two, or none. She sighed and nibbled on a slice of pie. "I wish I knew."

**April 5****th****, 1953  
**

Life moved on whether Edward wanted it to or not. He went to Headquarters every day, taught his classes, went to meetings, and came home again. Once, work had been a much needed escape. Now it had reached the stage where it was merely part of dreary existence; the doldrums that left him adrift in a world he no longer felt a part of. Ed no longer found enjoyment in the lectures, or even the fighting as much as he had before. Meetings were irritations that spotted his days. Dragging himself out of bed – or usually, off the couch – in the morning became more difficult with nothing to look forward to.

Though it didn't have to be that way. It had occurred to Ed the night before that there might be a more effective way to deal with how lousy he felt lately than attempting to drink himself into a_ stupor_ when he came home feeling depressed. There was a substance that Mei had mentioned in Xing that was used for medicinal purposes. Primarily, _kashu_ was a painkiller, but in small doses it was an anti-depressant and was supposed to have a mild euphoric effect while it kept the patient unconscious. Pleasant dreams and a good night's sleep sounded like just the ticket!

He was glad he had paid attention to Mei's lectures and taken copious notes on their alchemical compounds even though the details of those compounds would never see the light of day outside his alchemy notes. He knew the exact ingredients and the dosages that could be taken without doing damage and for the right effect. Mei had warned him that it was definitely dangerous if taken in too large a quantity and, like most painkillers, addictive if not monitored carefully. Ed had written everything she said down verbatim and asked for clarification several times to make sure he had it right. At the time it had been academic curiosity.

So that night when he got home he went straight to work. He already had all the critical ingredients in the house; he probably had one of the best stocked alchemy labs outside of the government labs themselves. Some small part of his mind screamed that this was a stupid idea but he quashed it easily enough, much more interested in the alchemist part of his mind that wanted to see if he could even mix the stuff properly; that wanted to see if it worked and maybe find a temporary solution to his problem.

The compound proved to be deceptively simple to mix. The base ingredient was the same as the morphine the doctors in Central used on patients, but there were more additional ingredients. It was a highly concentrated substance normally given diluted in liquid and ingested, though it could also be injected directly into the bloodstream.

Ed had no intention of going anywhere near himself with a needle! Besides, that was for larger doses. This wasn't supposed to knock him out for surgery. A light dose, in theory, would just help him sleep for a few hours – the exact time would depend on how fast his body metabolized the stuff – and wake up feeling pleasantly rested after a night of good dreams. Given lately all of his sleep was either dreamless or full of nightmares, anything was an improvement.

Before taking the_ kashu_ Ed got ready for bed. He changed into his pajamas and turned down the covers. Tomorrow was Saturday so he didn't have to worry about getting up at any particular time. If the dreams were good, sleeping in sounded like a very appealing thought. He measured the _kashu_ into a glass of water in the lab before bringing it into the bedroom. Ed sat on the edge of the bed. _Bottoms up._

It tasted like nothing really going down, but Ed knew to expect the effects to take hold fairly quickly. He lay down, pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes.

_Resembool; he recognized it the moment he opened his eyes. Edward was in his old bedroom, in bed, and everything was the way he remembered it from when he was a boy. The window glass was closed but the curtains were pulled back and it was raining outside though the light in the room made it cheery. _

_There was a knock at the door. "Come in?" Ed replied automatically, curious to see who it was. _

_The door opened and Winry bounced through, her raincoat and rain hat still dripping water and most of her long hair was tucked up under the hat. The coat was – as usual – longer than her skirt so it looked like that was all she was wearing! "Good morning, sleepyhead," she grinned as she closed the door behind her. "I almost didn't believe it when your Mom said you were still in bed at this hour." _

_Mom? Winry had to be sixteen. His mother was _dead_. Ed opened his mouth to say something when he heard a voice from downstairs. _

_"I'm going to the market!" Trisha Elric's voice came up through the floor, muffled by distance but distinctly hers. "Alphonse is coming with me to help carry groceries," she added a moment later, and Ed got the distinct impressing his mother wanted him to feel guilty for loafing in his room. _

_"Okay," Ed called back just to make sure she knew he had heard. Otherwise she would come upstairs and, from the interesting expression on Winry's face, Ed suspected he didn't want that at all! _

_Downstairs the front door clicked shut. As soon as it did Winry giggled. "So should I come back some other time or are you actually capable of getting up?" She winked at him and Ed felt his body warming, responding to the distinctly sexual undertones. _

_"Oh I think I can manage," Ed flashed his cockiest grin. Then something else occurred to him and he pulled his arms out from under the covers. Two hands, two arms; both complete flesh and blood. He could _feel_ his legs; both of them. None of the faded scars he was used to were there either. Winry was sixteen and so was he. _

_"Then we shouldn't waste any time," Winry smiled as she tossed her rain hat over the back of his chair then undid the front of her coat. "Who knows how fast your Mom and Al will get back."_

_Apparently this was a pre-arranged assignation. Ed groaned softly as Winry kicked off her shoes then removed her coat and draped it over the chair as well. It was no wonder he couldn't see the hem of her skirt under the coat – she wasn't wearing one at all! In fact, she was wearing very little; just some of the skimpiest, laciest undergarments like he had only seen in magazines, these in a deep purple. _

_"I'll take your inarticulateness as approval," Winry pulled the blankets off him and shoved them aside as she crawled up over him on the bed, her hands sliding up under his shirt and skillfully taking it with them up until she slipped it over his head. "I get my eye candy too," she chuckled, her voice dropping into a more sultry whisper as her fingers ran lightly back down the sides of his chest and abdomen. "It's only fair."_

_"Whatever you wish," Ed's voice squeaked tightly, but he didn't mind. It was like electricity was coursing through him. She was stunning – a wicked little angel who had come to play. Besides, he could get even. Her chest was rather nicely in reach. _

_In moments Ed was lost in the enticing pleasures of risking his mother's wrath by having uninhibited sex in his room with the girl from next door. There were plenty of surprises too, and tricks he had never thought of before. _

_It rapidly dissolved into the single most_ erotic_ dream – or experience - Edward had ever had. _

**April 6****th****, 1953**

Edward was just about to suggest another round when he found himself violently ripped from sleep so fast that it felt like he was ascending stairs at twice normal speed. He came awake gasping and panting heavily. His pajamas straight through to the sheets were soaked with sweat and sticky in places. The pounding he heard was his heart going in his ears and chest and it took him a moment to become aware that his limbs were shaking violently; his whole body was shaking, and he hurt….oh _shit_ he hurt!

His stomach twisted and cramped as he tried to sit upright and found himself doubling over, vomiting violently as he almost fell off the bed. What the hell! This wasn't supposed to be happening. _Thiswasn'tsupposedtobehappening_.... Panic welled up in him as he vomited again, his body shaking so hard he could barely hold position.

There was only the smallest portion of his brain that clung frantically to reason, racing for explanations along with his heartbeat. He _must_ have used the wrong dose. But how could that be? He'd followed his notes! Whatever had happened he had to move and he had to move now or he was _dead. _

That thought spurred him to action. Ed forced himself to his feet, staggering all the way against the wall, slamming into it before falling to his knees. His hands didn't move fast enough to fully catch him before he slammed into the floor, conking his nose and sending a whole new sensation of pain shooting across his face.

Aching, shaking, and in tears, Ed crawled as best he could out of the room and took a right down the hall to the lab. He had to stop three times in the barely fifteen feet of hallway to vomit again even though there was nothing left but bile. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit…_

The door was open. Ed dragged himself through it and grabbed for the edge of the desk, ignoring the clock that ticked away evenly, taunting him with it's four in the morning.

Where was it? Where was it! He always kept some in here...

There! Grasping, stumbling, grabbing again, Ed's shaking hand closed around the jar and he yanked the top off. Some of the dark contents spilled on the desk but he ignored the grit. _No _alchemist worked with dangerous ingredients without a treatment for if he accidentally got something in his system.

Ed upended the little jar and closed his mouth around as much activated charcoal as he could safely swallow. He gagged on it going down, but didn't vomit again as he sagged against the edge of the desk. His vision blurred and he wasn't sure if it was tears or something else, but he struggled as he felt his ability to follow thought slipping away.

The world seemed to spin around him. Tears ran down his face as he curled in on himself; hot trails that seemed to dance in time to his whimpering sobs. There were certainly less painful ways to die, but at that moment, that might be the least agonizing solution to his distress.

The floor slammed into his side though he felt no sensation of falling and he lay there, shaking violently as he _wished_ he would find unconsciousness. It was a long while before the universe was kind enough to grant it to him.


	8. Destruction 4

**April 6****th****, 1953**

The dark blur in front of him slowly resolved itself into the leg of a chair. For the briefest moment, Edward wondered if he might be dead anyway, but the scratchiness of the carpet on his cheek – and the overall ache and feeling of lead-heavy exhaustion that filled him – was too solid, too real. Ed couldn't remember actually passing out. All he remembered was an interminable period of agony, panic, fear, and utter helplessness.

Filtered light through the curtains told him that it was morning. Though at the angle he had fallen Ed could not see the clock. He contemplated moving but his limbs seemed disinclined to cooperate. Okay, they flat out _refused _the first time he tried to move. If he hadn't been able to feel them he would have panicked again.

It took Ed half an hour to get into a sitting position. His body felt like he had been thoroughly run through a laundry wringer repeatedly, run over with his car, and then had to battle multiple homunculi all over again. His muscles all ached, feeling thick and ungainly. His mouth was disgusting.

Ed had thought that hangovers were bad. Now he fully understood what it felt like to be _the living dead_. Another half hour gave him the energy to get to his feet, supported by the desk. Once he got his balance back he was able to make his way slowly down the hall to the bathroom, using the wall as a brace to keep himself upright.

The hot water felt like a shocking dose of reality as Ed leaned against the cold tiles on the wall and let the water run over his pain-wracked body, rinsing away the sweat, vomit, and bits of charcoal. His muscles still twitched randomly even as he got out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and crossed the hall back to his room. He didn't even consider going into what he still considered _Winry's _room.

Ed managed to drag the sheets – now far too disgusting to consider using even for the moment – off the bed and carried them to the laundry shoot, dumping them down to the laundry room below. He should get something in his system; the thought came to him hazily. A cup in the bathroom provided all he needed for a couple of glasses of water.

Food; he should get food. But that required going down the stairs; a daunting task that made the kitchen seem too far away to bother with. Besides, nothing sounded appealing. Anything he thought of made his stomach queasier. Yet he was craving something as surely as he ever had before. What was it?

Ed's head pounded harder as he tried to think. He wanted a drink. That too was in the kitchen. He wanted –

- _more_. The realization struck him with a heavy mental blow that stunned him into immobility as his hand came to rest on a clean blanket in the linen closet. What he was craving was _kashu._

What kind of an_ absolute moron_ was he? The full reality of the night before crashed down on Edward with the weight of a freight train. He'd almost _died_ last night; Ed was sure of it. He _had_ to have messed up the dose somehow. There was no way he had written it down wrong… but he had read it three times! It didn't matter what had gone wrong, he had completely misjudged. Okay, he hadn't been_ thinking _clearly at all or he would never have tried it.

What _had_ he been thinking? Mei had told him it was dangerous. She had told him it could be addictive. As usual, he had ignored the warnings of experienced alchemists in the name of his own selfish wants. No matter how erotically enticing or how tempting it was to seemingly spend time with his mother – not erotic – and with Winry – mind-blowingly erotic - in a life he had never lived, he shouldn't have risked it. The fact that he wanted more just told him how effective he had made it; how well the alchemy worked.

Hell… getting drunk every night would have been safer after all.

Ed couldn't make it downstairs. He was too weak and his body barely listened to his mind's commands. That was fine with him for now. It was probably safer. Ed locked the door to the alchemy lab, then dropped the key on the floor and kicked it under the door. He made his way back to his room and wrapped up in the one blanket on the mattress, not bothering to try and really make the bed.

There was only one logical conclusion; he was an _idiot._ It was no wonder Winry had left him. In over forty years he still hadn't learned his lesson. He was still trying to out-play God… and he was still _losing_ hands down.

Quiet tears were the lullaby that took him back into dead tired unconsciousness.

**April 7****th****, 1953**

Edward spent the rest of Saturday sicker than any dog he had ever met. He slept fitfully and shook on and off for several hours before the last remnants of the _kashu _seemed to be out of his system. The craving remained and Ed was glad he had locked the lab door. The only trips he made out of bed were back and forth to the bathroom to relieve himself, vomit, and drink water. His body insisted it was hungry, but even some of the water came back up early on. All he really wanted to do was sleep. The seditious voice in his mind that kept hinting that it would be nice to just _slip _back into the dream came to him repeatedly, and he stubbornly tried to ignore it. He _could not _give in!

Sunday afternoon he finally made it downstairs after putting on the easiest pair of pants he owned and a blue t-shirt. He made toast and tea, _made_ himself eat it, then pulled on his brown overcoat and a pair of shoes and drove himself over to the hospital. Ed knew it probably would have been wiser to call Alphonse or Roy, or just about anyone, but the last thing he ever wanted anyone to find out was just how much he had _royally_ screwed up this time. The State had overlooked his blatant disregard for the law and use of taboo alchemy once; he doubted they would be so favorable a second time even though this wasn't technically illegal.

Ed didn't even attempt to get an appointment. It was faster – and lower profile – to just walk into the Emergency Room waiting area like any other patient and sit for an hour. When a nurse finally escorted him to an examining room he had managed to catch a forty-minute cat nap and was feeling a little more alert.

"You told the desk you think you accidentally overdosed on a painkiller two days ago," the doctor who saw him said. She was young. Ed imagined she couldn't be more than a year out of medical school. "The fact that you walked in here on your own, Sir, is a rather good sign."

"I figured," Ed smiled disarmingly.

"What exactly happened?" she asked as she examined his eyes and hears and listened to his lungs and his heart.

Ed swallowed. "I wasn't feeling great after work so I took a painkiller but I wasn't paying attention and I'm pretty sure I misjudged the dosage." He shrugged. Simple enough story. He hoped she didn't ask for more specifics. He didn't really want to lie _outright. _

"Given your umm… profession, Sir," she looked up at him after making notes, "I am going to have to assume that any analgesics in your house are probably relatively potent."

He was an alchemist and an auto-mail patient; that assumption made sense. Ed felt a mild sense of relief. "Yeah," he admitted, looking embarrassed. "I was stupid and misread the label."

"Patients shouldn't try and dose themselves," the doctor frowned. "This is exactly why we recommend otherwise."

"I swear I'm not going to do it again," Ed held up one hand as if he were taking an oath, smiling. "I just want to make sure I'm okay."

"Well you seem to be fine," she said, nodding. "Still, you should make an appointment with your primary physician as soon as possible for another examination. That doctor is more familiar with your particular physiology."

"Right." Ed stood up and put his coat back on. "Thanks, Doctor."

He only relaxed once he was back outside and in the car on the way home. No real damage done right? Well, she had made it clear that she couldn't tell if anything was out of whack with his body or not aside from the fact that he was obviously breathing and mobile. The only way to really know would be a more thorough examination by Doctor Gray. Still, Ed felt a lot better now than he had when he woke up in the middle of the night a bundle of agony. Ed just hoped he felt better tomorrow when he went to work. He had classes to teach and, for the first time in a while, he was looking forward to it.

**April 8****th****, 1953**

Despite being a little unsteady in the morning, breakfast and plenty of fluids had Ed reasonably functional by the time he got to his morning combat class. Fortunately it was a group of the new students so they shouldn't be anything he couldn't handle. It was mostly basic demonstration at this point anyway.

Ed changed into his sparring clothes and was waiting on the mats when the kids arrived. They really were _kids_ to him now, even the few who were in their late twenties or even up to their late thirties, though that was much rarer these days. Alphonse had a class with some of the State Alchemists going on the other side of the gymnasium at the same time, but there was plenty of room.

The morning basic drills were forms. After that they got around to actual combat, and he was starting them off standing. Ed could have demonstrated those positions half dead. In effect, that was what he felt like he was doing.

"All right," he called them into a circle around him and the one student in the class who actually had some fighting experience. "I'm going to demonstrate the attack I want you to practice and Jansen here is going to demonstrate the block. Then we're going to switch and I'm going to go into the block as he attacks me. We'll repeat it several times and move it up to speed so you can see what you'll be doing."

The demonstration went exactly as described, at least until it got up to speed. Ed knew he wasn't up to par but he found himself easily winded and already feeling it half way through the exercise. Talk about pathetic! They only had another few repetitions to go. Gritting his teeth Ed pushed through it. His heart pounded harder in his ears… suddenly racing, and for a moment spots appeared before his eyes. Gasping, Ed hesitated just a moment… and felt Jansen's fist connect with his face before he actually registered that it was coming.

The next thing Ed knew he had staggered back several steps, barely avoiding falling to the ground, doubled over as his heart raced and he sucked in air as he panted, trying to get his body back under control. _What the heck?! _

Within a minute he felt his heart start to slow again; the sound of blood in his ears falling away. As it did, he realized that the room was unusually quiet. Looking up, Ed realized that the entire class – and all of Al's – was staring at him, amazed.

The horrified expression on Jansen's face said that he clearly expected to be punished for landing a solid blow on the Fullmetal Alchemist – something not a _single_ program student had managed to successfully do since the program's inception.

Ed smiled weakly as he straightened up and shrugged. "Nice shot," he commented, hoping to break the awkward moment with levity. "That would be a demonstration of why you should never lose focus or take your eye off your opponent. All right everyone," he barked then, getting back to business. "Partner up!"

The rest of the class went fine, though Ed couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. He was unusually aware of his heartbeat thumping away inside his chest, but given how crazy the weekend had been and how off kilter his body was he supposed that being overly sensitive and aware was a natural side effect of that.

As soon as the class was over, Ed vacated for the showers. There he stood under the water until he heard the rest of his students leave and the room empty, just letting it course over his body and willing himself to relax. It was all right. _He_ was all right. Finally he turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist.

Alphonse was waiting for him, a deep furrow in his brow.

"Hey," Ed tried to sound casual, "Don't you teach lecture next?"

Al shook his head. "Not today," he corrected. "Are you all right?"

"After that little smack?" Ed chuckled. "Yeah I'm fine. He didn't hit me that hard."

"That's not what I meant," Al said, his scowl deepening.

Ed knew that. He had just been hoping he could throw Al off enough to not have to discuss it. "I was sick this weekend," he replied. "I guess I'm just a little off today."

"Thirty years' tradition broken and all you can say is you're a_ little off_?" Al gave him an incredulous look.

"What else do you want me to say?" Ed frowned. "It was my fault and it finally happened."

"Jansen looked like he thought he was going to die," Al pointed out. "If you were sick enough for someone to get a shot in on you that easily maybe you should go home. You don't look like you're entirely over it."

Ed knew perfectly well that he looked lousy. "I feel okay." The last thing he wanted to do was go home. There were too many temptations. He hadn't figured out what to do about what remained of the small bottle of _kashu_ in the lab. Getting rid of it meant going in and physically handling it, and he wasn't sure he had the will to resist the temptation to give it another try with a proper dose.

Al fidgeted, looking completely unconvinced. "Yeah well, how about I take your fighting classes until you're better all right?"

"Sure," Ed agreed. What else could he do? Arguing would only polarize Al against him and he really wasn't sure he_ could_ handle more if he was winded after such a simple class. The weekend had taken more out of him than he realized. So he would just have to take it easy for a few days and recover.

The rest of the day was uneventful. With the other class he was intended to teach covered by Alphonse and no lectures that day, he spent the rest of it sitting on his butt in his office making his way slowly through forms and reports that normally would have taken him half the time. His mind kept drifting and his caught himself napping twice after lunch.

He was not surprised in the least when Al stuck his head in near the end of the day to check on him. "You should go home, Ed," he commented after one look at him.

"I'm going soon," Ed nodded. He might have argued except that a yawn chose that particular moment as the perfect excuse to crack his jaw. "I just want to finish this last page."

"All right, but don't stay too late," Al scolded.

"At least wait until I don't take your advice to get annoyed with me," Ed chuckled tiredly. No, he wasn't going to be able to take too much more of this. He needed sleep.

**April 9****th****, 1953**

The clock on the wall read six in the morning. That was clear, but why his office clock was hanging in the bedroom took Ed far too long to puzzle out before he realized he was lying with his head in his arms on his desk. Logic kicked in; he had never made it home. Instead, he had passed out in the office and slept straight through until the next morning!

Yes, he had definitely been exhausted. That was probably a solid eleven hours of sleep. No wonder he felt cramped. Well, at least this saved him the time and trouble of driving to and from the house. Ed shook himself and went down to the break room to start the coffee maker. No one else was around yet so he had the place to himself. There was also a box with a few day-old donuts that were still reasonably fresh. Grabbing two, Ed took those and coffee back to his office, then at least straightened out his jacket so he wouldn't look like he had _obviously_ slept in his chair. Not that he would be the first officer who ever pulled an all-nighter, but he had promised Al he would get some rest. At least he had made good on that promise, however unintentionally.

Ed had been working for a solid two hours before he got another visit from Al, who peeked in tentatively. "Sleep well?" he asked. He did not look as relieved as Ed had hoped.

"Reasonably," Ed replied vaguely. "I conked out pretty hard then woke up early."

Al contemplated him for a moment. "So, will you come over for dinner tonight?"

"What does that have to do with my sleeping habits?" Ed asked.

Al's face split into a grin then. "Well you've been oddly cooperative about taking my advice the last twenty-four hours so I figured you might actually take me up on the offer."

He had a point. Ed hadn't argued about Al taking his classes, or about the fact that he should go home. Normally Ed would have argued those out of reflex. Did Al find that reassuring, or was it actually concerning him further? "Sure, why not," Ed sighed, leaning back in his chair for a moment to stretch his legs. "As long as we don't talk about anything too… personal."

Al's frown said he got what Ed was referring to, but his brother nodded. "That's fair."

As long as they weren't going to talk about Winry and how Ed was dealing with her leaving, he could handle dinner at Al's house. At least he thought so.

* * *

As he approached the door to the house, Ed began to have second thoughts about accepting Al's invitation. They were actually fourth, fifth, or possibly tenth thoughts, but he had been telling himself all day that he would be all right. He ignored the edgy, irritable feeling that seemed to crawl under his skin. He didn't need – or want – another dose of _kashu. _What he really did want was a good stiff drink to settle his nerves.

"Elicia's making beef and cabbage stew," Al smiled as he opened the door and they both went inside. "There will be more than enough."

Ed hung up his coat next to Al's. He liked Elicia's cooking, though it had been a while now since he had had it. Actually, it had been a while since he had eaten anything that was home cooked. The closest he got was the food in the Mess. "Sounds great," he replied. "Smells good too," he added with a soft chuckle.

"Alphonse!" Elicia's voice came from the other room. She obviously hadn't heard Ed however, given what came next. "I'm glad you're home. Winry called! She wanted to tell me about how well her – oh, hello Edward." She froze mid-step and in the middle of her sentence as she came into the living room and saw him standing there.

Ed went stiff at her words and contemplated bolting right then. He made himself relax tense muscles. "Hi Elicia. I hope you don't mind, but Al invited me for dinner."

Elicia fidgeted for a moment and then smiled. "I'm glad you accepted." She did not say _finally_, but they all knew she wanted to. "I'll just get another place setting." She vanished into the other room.

"Maybe I should have gone home after all," Ed said.

"Of course not," Al replied firmly. "You look like you could use a good meal."

* * *

Actually, Alphonse privately thought Ed could use a lot more than _one_ good meal. Ed looked worse than he had when they got back from the war. He had gone from lean to gaunt. Al was inclined to buy the sick excuse for the weekend; Ed looked far too ill to have just been hung-over yesterday morning. That, and Al was sure Ed could probably have gotten through an entire day of fighting even if he _had _come to work hung-over.

Dinner was quiet, but less awkward than Al had feared. After her first unintentional blunder, Elicia did not say a word about Winry, even though Al knew she was dying to talk to him. Alyse talked about school but was relatively quiet and vacated the table right after she finished eating to study.

"So," Ed looked evenly at Elicia during a quiet lull after dessert was served. "How well Winry's what?"

"Oh I…" Elicia was immediately flustered. "She was telling me that she was doing better, that's all."

Ed's expression darkened slightly. "Look if you can't tell me something just say so."

"It's not that," Elicia objected, but words seemed to fail her and Al knew she was simply trying not to cause either Ed or Winry more pain. They were trying to be supportive of everyone, but that was proving difficult on Ed's part. He refused to accept even a kind word of sympathy, and still got downright nasty if anyone tried to bring up the subject.

"Isn't it?" Ed put his napkin down on the table. "Thanks for the meal, Elicia. It was delicious. I've got to go." Then he stood up abruptly and headed out of the room.

"Ed, wait!" Al called, but he heard the door slam so quickly he was fairly certain Ed hadn't even put his coat on before leaving. The room got very quiet.

It was Elicia who broke the silence. "Al, you didn't tell me he was that sick." She looked like she might start crying.

"He didn't look this bad last week," Al admitted, crestfallen. "I thought maybe if I could get him over here we could actually talk but…"

"I think it's going to take more than dinner to bring Ed out of whatever funk he's fallen into," Elicia sighed sadly. "He didn't even finish his dinner." She was right. Ed had barely touched the plate. _Maybe_ half of it was gone even though Al knew that Ed really liked that particular dish.

**April 12****th****, 1953**

Usually it was Elicia who called Winry. Alphonse had spoken with her a few times, but he suspected that she kept their conversations shorter because she didn't want him to feel stuck between her and Ed. As if it made a difference at this point. Winry was the only one talking! Still, Al was becoming quickly certain that nothing short of a miracle – or perhaps more importantly, Winry herself – was going to snap Ed out of it. His brother wasn't moving on, he wasn't even coping; he was just_ stuck. _

"Hello?" Lucky for Al it was Winry who picked up the phone.

"Hi, Winry," Al said trying to sound upbeat "I was hoping you were around."

She must have sensed or heard the lead up in his voice. "Is something wrong, Al?"

So much for a casual introduction or general conversation before getting to the hard part. "It's Ed," Al jumped right in without hesitation, briefly outlining what he knew, and the greater part of what he suspected. There was no way Ed was getting enough sleep, he was fairly sure he wasn't even eating much – forget _right – _and at this point he didn't doubt that Ed didn't much care how much he drank anymore. Not that Al ever saw him touch a drop. The problem was, he almost never saw _Ed._ "So I was wondering if maybe you would consider talking to him?" he asked hopefully. "I hate to even ask, Winry, but I don't know what else to do at this point. I don't suppose you've given any thought to coming back soon?"

"I can't, Al," Winry said after a couple of very long minutes of silence. She sounded like she might be crying. After what Al had told her, he almost expected it. "Not yet. I tried, but I couldn't help him. I'm just not ready to face this again, not with what you've told me. It's just gotten worse. If he won't talk to _you_ I really doubt he wants to talk to me."

"It's all right," Al tried to soothe her. He hadn't wanted to upset her. "I was just thinking that maybe enough time had passed that he might listen now."

"What's changed?" Winry asked in a near whisper. "Has he said anything about me at all?"

Al's heart dropped into his feet. "Not lately," he admitted honestly. "He's been refusing to talk about the situation at all."

"Please… take care of him." The words were almost inaudible.

Al thought he heard an unspoken 'for me' on the other end of the line, but that was probably wishful thinking on his part. It didn't take genius to recognize that as a _no. _"I will," Al promised. "Sorry I bothered you, Winry."

"You're never a bother, Al," Winry contradicted him. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." When the conversation ended, Al went into the living room and sat down. He was finally beginning to understand why everyone he had talked to since Winry left who knew people in similar situations had insisted that _separated_ almost always translated to _it's over._ Al might have to finally accept the fact that in this case that might also be true.

No wonder Ed felt like getting drunk.

* * *

Aldon purposefully stayed out of the room when he realized that his mother was talking to Uncle Al on the phone. It took very little to get that they were talking about Dad, and his mother sounded upset. He waited until he heard her hang up the phone before coming out of the old auto-mail shop where he had been balancing the accounts. "Hey, Mom. How's Uncle Al?"

Even the neutral question did not get the response Aldon had been expecting. Winry turned from the phone, and he saw tears running down her face. It had been weeks since she had really cried, despite how often he still caught her looking sad. "Your uncle's fine," she replied quietly. "He just wanted to talk about… something. I'm going to take a walk before dinner."

Not a word about Dad; though Aldon would have bet a week's pay that was what had his mother so upset. "All right." What else could he say? "Are you okay, Mom?"

"Compared to whom?" Winry's cryptic reply lingered even after she walked out of the room into the early evening light.

Aldon watched her go, and a bubble of anger filled him again like it hadn't in a few weeks. He wasn't mad at his father or his mother. The situation frustrated him and he just wanted it solved so everyone would stop suffering. He walked over to the phone, picked it up, and dialed the house in Resembool.

He had to wait for several minutes. The phone rang until Aldon suspected that if his father was home from HQ – which he ought to be – he had to find it annoying. Good; that meant he might actually pick up.

Finally his patience was rewarded. There was a click and the ringing stopped. A moment of hearing nothing and there was a wary – and rather bleary sounding – "Hello?"

"Hi, Dad," Aldon said calmly. He didn't try to sound upbeat. His father wouldn't have bought it anyway. "We hadn't talked in a while, so I thought I'd call." His father hadn't even answered the phone the last several times Aldon tried calling or it wouldn't have been, but he didn't mention that part.

Another moment of suspicious silence. "Yeah," Ed replied. "I guess so. How's things?"

They talked for a couple of minutes. Aldon's father asked about Cassie and the boys, and at least seemed to listen as Aldon gave him a brief update. Aldon told him about the Sheep festival and about his invention. He noticed the line got silent the moment he mentioned Mom's helping with it. That was not a good sign. "I guess that's about it," Aldon said after he finished. "Except… we need to talk about things."

"I thought that's what we were doing?" Ed replied sarcastically.

Aldon swallowed his nerves. "You know what I mean, Dad. We need to talk about Mom."

"So are you going to tell me what a jerk I've been too?" His father snapped sharply.

"No," Aldon kept himself calm. He had to. This was too important. "I'm just worried about both of you. And I thought you'd like to know how Mom was doing. You always worry about her."

"Well not anymore," Ed growled sullenly. Aldon wasn't sure if he had woken his father up – despite how oddly early it was for a nap – or if he was already drinking this evening. He preferred both options over thinking this might be his father's usual temperament of late. If so it was no wonder Sara vented to him about dealing with _the General_ when they talked.

Aldon sighed. "How long is this going to go on, Dad?"

"Why don't you ask your mother," he retorted. "She's the one who left."

"You act like everything's over." It was taking a lot of willpower to keep his temper. Aldon wasn't used to his father like this. It was like talking to a completely different person. He kept his tone reasonable, despite the fact he was sure he sounded like he was pleading some too. "But it's not and everything's not going to just go away. This can still be fixed."

"Just what do you suggest?" Ed asked sardonically.

"Talk to Mom," Aldon urged. "She's worried about you and she misses you."

"So why are you the one telling me instead of her?" Ed scoffed darkly. Then, a moment later… "Is she there now?"

Aldon wanted to hit himself for letting his mother go out the door. "Just a second." He set down the phone and ran to the door, tossing it open and looking out into the falling dusk. "Mom?" he called out, but he got no return. He didn't see her either. _Damn it. _He went back to the phone. "She's out at the moment. You want her to call back?" he asked the last hopefully.

"Whatever."

That was not the response Aldon had hoped for, but he supposed it was better than nothing. "Come on, Dad," he tried to lighten things up a little. "You know, we'd love to have you come visit too."

There was another pause and a sipping sound. "Somehow I doubt that everyone feels this way."

"But we do!" Aldon objected. "I –"

The line went dead.

"What's wrong Aldon?" Cassie poked her head around the corner.

"Dad," Aldon stared at the receiver. "He…he didn't believe me."

Aldon hung up the phone, not sure if he had improved the situation or been entirely ineffective. He was fairly certain it couldn't be made much worse.

* * *

A long walk in the fresh air helped. By the time Winry stopped crying and got back to the house the sun was down. She didn't feel like eating so she politely declined dinner and went up to take a bath. Afterward, while the boys were being put to bed, she came back downstairs and made a cup of tea.

Aldon had told her a little about his conversation with Edward when she first got back. "You _should_ try calling, Mom," he said at the end. "I'll bet Uncle Al told you the same thing."

He had. Winry sat at the table, staring at the phone as she sipped her tea, trying to work up the courage. Finally, she stood up and went over to the phone. It couldn't hurt things anymore. They had to talk sometime. She picked up the phone and dialed.

Immediately she got the tone that said the phone was in use. Who would Ed be talking to? So she hung up, waited several minutes, and tried again with the same result. Irritated, Winry tried repeatedly over the next couple of hours. She didn't care how late it was.

Two hours later and she knew what had probably happened. Al had said Ed almost never answered the phone. That meant he was almost certainly not talking to anyone on the other end… the phone was off the hook.

**April 24****th****, 1953**

The teacher at the front of the room was saying something about the Ishbal Massacre, but if anyone had asked Ethan what she said he would not have been able to give a coherent reply. It was all he could do to stay focused. His mind kept wandering, and he had to prop himself up on his elbows just to stay awake. His stomach gurgled and he shifted in his seat and hoped that he wasn't about to get worse than just nauseous. Normally, Ethan enjoyed Mrs. Valentine's lectures, but today the history lesson seemed to go right through his head without registering.

"Hey, Ethan."

Something poking his ribs made Ethan open his eyes and he realized that he had dozed off. Apparently not for long, Mrs. Valentine was still at the board writing and she had only written down a couple of new terms. "What?" he turned his head and realized that it was his friend Gordon giving him a concerned look.

"Stay awake, man," Gordon whispered as quietly as he could. "Are you okay? You look like crud."

"I feel like crud," Ethan admitted. Actually, he felt like he was going to throw up. Reluctantly he put a hand up and waited patiently until Mrs. Valentine turned around.

"What is it, Ethan?" she asked.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am," Ethan apologized, "But may I please be excused to go see the nurse?"

Mrs. Valentine frowned, but nodded. "Go ahead." Apparently he looked as lousy as he felt.

Ethan put his books in his pack and slung it over his shoulder. It was a relief to be out of the classroom. It seemed stuffy and loud lately, surrounded by the other kids. He made his way down to the nurse's office as he had asked.

Miss Vinwood, the school nurse, gave him a concerned look as he came in. "Ethan; I wasn't expecting to see you again this week." It was Wednesday, and he had come in on Monday as well, earlier in the day.

Ethan nodded. "Sorry to be an inconvenience," he said. "I was feeling nauseous again."

"Well let's have a look at you." Miss Vinwood made him sit down in a chair while she stuck a thermometer under his tongue, then checked his eyes and ears. She pulled the thermometer out a minute later and looked at it, then checked his throat. "You still check out fine," she shook her head. "No fever or signs of illness that I can see."

"I swear I'm not faking," Ethan objected.

"Did I say I didn't believe you?" she replied with a small frown. "You look tired. Since this is the second time this week I'm not inclined to send you back to class either. I should call your father and have him take you home."

"N-no, that's okay," Ethan smiled, waving off the offer quickly. "He's busy at work. I don't want to bother him. I can get myself home." He could walk to Aunt Gracia's all right on his own.

Miss Vinwood's expression softened. "Ethan, is this about what's going on at home?"

He froze mid-motion, one hand still in the air. "How did you-?"

"It's been everywhere," she pointed out with a sigh and a sympathetic shake of her head. "I'm sorry, but I think everyone in Central knows about it by now; possibly most of the Country for anyone who cares about gossip." She pulled out a pad of paper and began writing. "All right, I want you to go home but make sure to take this note with you."

"Yes ma'am," Ethan nodded as she ripped the piece off, folded it, and handed it over. Ethan took it and put it right into his pocket.

"Good." That seemed to satisfy her. "Now go home and get some rest all right?"

That was really all Ethan wanted. He made the walk back to Gracia's slowly. He couldn't remember if she was going to be home all day today or not. He kind of hoped she had one of her club meetings or social events so that she wouldn't know he had gone home before the end of the day.

No such luck. Gracia was sitting in the living room flipping through a recipe book when he came in. "Ethan, what are you doing home early?" she looked up, a concerned expression on her face.

"I wasn't feeling well," he shrugged, trying to keep it casual. "The nurse said I should come home."

Gracia immediately stood up and came over, placing her hand a little above his forehead. "Well it doesn't feel like a fever." From the look in her eyes, Ethan knew she wasn't really expecting to find one. "Do you want to talk?"  
Ethan shook his head, reluctant to get into it. "Not really. Oh, the nurse gave me this note for…for Dad." He pulled it out of his coat pocket and held it out to her. "I didn't look at it." He had been tempted. Miss Vinwood hadn't sealed it or anything, but Ethan was too honest for that.

Gracia took the note and read it. As she read a little frown line formed in her forehead. When she looked back up at him though, her expression was much softer. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I didn't want to be a bother to you," Ethan replied, looking away.

He was startled when Gracia hugged him. "You're not a bother, Ethan. I'm glad you feel comfortable here. Now," she stepped back and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "I want you to go upstairs and lie down until dinner. And don't you so much as crack even a page of a book," she scolded lightly, but he could tell she meant it. "Try and get some rest."

That was a couple of hours away still. Really though, that sounded pretty good. He nodded. "Yes, Aunt Gracia."

* * *

Gracia watched the boy go upstairs, her heart aching. It never mattered that he wasn't her son. To see any of her family in pain hurt her deeply. When she hugged Ethan, he felt so thin beneath his clothes. He had never been a large or solid boy to begin with, but this whole ordeal was hurting him terribly. Yet he manfully tried to pretend that he was doing all right so he wouldn't worry anyone else.

Ethan really was so much like his father. Though in this case, Gracia wished he _wasn't._ He was obviously suffering, and the note from the nurse's office – obviously meant for Edward – shed some light on a few things that Gracia had not known.

She went into the kitchen to finish working on dinner. It was definitely time to have a good long talk with Ethan, whether he felt like it or not. There was at least one Elric boy whose problems she could still intervene in. There were a couple of things she should do before he came back down as well. Once dinner was cooking, she headed for the phone.

Ethan came back downstairs a couple of hours later, just as she was taking dinner off the stove. He sat down quietly at the little kitchen table. They rarely bothered with the formal dining room when it was just the two of them. He waited patiently while she served up the beef and vegetable soup with rice, but he didn't start eating when she served it. Instead, he stirred it listlessly with his spoon, staring down at it with disinterest.

"You need to eat sometime, Ethan."

He started, jerking as if he had been dazed or lost in thought. "I'm sorry, Aunt Gracia. I'm not very hungry."

"You haven't been hungry in weeks," Gracia replied pointedly. "That doesn't mean you can stop eating unless you feel like it. It's not healthy."

Ethan sighed, but he spooned up the soup and started eating. That was one thing he had going for him, Gracia thought. Ethan followed sensible suggestions even when he didn't want to. Gracia waited until he had finished the entire bowl before she brought up the letter. "The nurse at school is very concerned about you," she said gently. "And so am I. Her note says that you've been down to her office twice this week, and at least once a week for the last month."

Ethan looked decidedly uneasy. "I felt like I was going to throw up. I never did though," he hastened to assure her. "I was just, I don't know, really tired and my stomach hurt. But I'd rest and have a snack and be fine. So I just went back to class."

"I wish you had told me," Gracia shook her head. "The nurse wants you to see a doctor."

At that, Ethan looked up sharply from his food. "What for?"

"Because she's _worried_ about you. Apparently so are some of your teachers."

"How do you know that?"

"I called the school," Gracia admitted.

Ethan blanched. "You what! But…they don't know I'm not…"

"Living at home? Yes, we covered that," Gracia nodded. "I explained the situation. They called Headquarters to confirm before they would tell me anything."

Ethan looked like he wanted to sink into the table. "They talked to Dad?"

"Briefly," Gracia sighed. She hadn't spent very long on hold. "I don't know exactly what he said, sweetie, but they said that I could ask them anything I wanted."

"I'm in trouble aren't I?"

"No," Gracia shook her head, "At least, not for this. I'm not happy you didn't tell me that you've been having trouble in class and going down to the nurse's office. Apparently most of your teachers have said you're having trouble focusing or you don't seem enthusiastic."

"I've kind of had a lot on my mind," Ethan replied, actually snappish. It was a rare occurrence.

"Tired, listless," Gracia listed a couple of the other comments, ticking them off on her fingers. "No one is mad at you, Ethan, but you can't just bottle things up. It won't make the problem go away, and that's how these problems_ begin_."

That got Ethan's attention. "Dad." He didn't say anything else.

Gracia nodded. "You're a smart young man, Ethan. You should know better than most when it's time to go get help and talk to someone. Though they do say doctors make the worst patients," she added with a wry little smile.

At that, Ethan looked embarrassed. "I just don't want to be a burden to anyone."

"That's very commendable," Gracia assured him. "But not very practical. And after all, if people want to help you, how do you think you make them feel by denying them that opportunity?"

"Probably not very good," Ethan sighed.

"Everyone's upset about what happened." Looking at what it was doing to Ethan, Gracia wanted to go over to the other house right now and give Edward a piece of her mind! She had talked to Winry a few times, and had made it very clear what she thought of the whole situation. Winry had been very contrite on the phone. "Right now our concern is supporting you and your sister and your brother as much as we can." That was harder of course, with Aldon in Resembool. But Gracia knew that Aldon was handling things better. She had talked to him a couple of times when she had called to talk to Winry, and Aldon had assured _her_ that they were taking good care of his mother. Bless him for being sensible. "And saving Edward from himself if it's still possible."

"Good luck with that," Ethan shook his head. "It's all Dad's fault," he added then, bitterly.

Gracia wasn't used to hearing Ethan say anything negative about his father, even now. "How do you figure that?"

"Well everyone's upset with him, but they're not really mad at Mom."

It was a good point. "Ethan, I _don't _approve of your mother's decision… but I understand it. She did everything she could, and she left when the situation was too much for her. People have limits. Really, I don't think there was anything else she could have done that would have improved the situation the way things were. Still, it's not that simple. Your father needs us now more than ever."

"I know that," Ethan scowled. "But I don't really blame Mom for going either. I mean, I bailed well before she did." He shrugged then laughed humorlessly. "It's funny, people have always told me how much I'm just like him but…right now that's the last thing I want to be."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I…I go home sometimes in the evenings to get stuff I need," Ethan replied.

Gracia knew this. She always gave him permission. Now she got the feeling there were things he wasn't telling her about those visits. "What happened, Ethan?"

"Nothing _happened_," Ethan shook his head. "But if I go over after eight, especially by nine, it's pretty safe. Dad's usually passed out on the couch by then, or too drunk to notice I'm there. It's easy to just get what I need and go without a fight." He said it so casually, Gracia wondered how often that had been the case. Too often if it was what Ethan had come to expect in so short a time. "You're afraid of being too much like him." That was what he was getting at. It wasn't that he didn't still love his father. He did very much, and that was why this was hurting him. He was afraid he'd turn out to be like him _this_ was as well.

Ethan shrugged. "It stands to reason doesn't it? They say that kind of thing can be genetic. I don't really want to find out." He shook his head. "It's sad. I just want to _help_ him, but he doesn't seem to listen to anything anyone says."

"You can't help people when they don't want to be helped, Ethan." Gracia let him take the conversation where he needed it to go. Ever since Winry had actually left, Ethan had barely said a word on the subject of his parents. He had clung to the phone like a lifeline every time Winry called or he called her. The boy who had always been so proud to be Edward's son had barely said a word about the man in months.

Ethan nodded, then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, hiding tears. "I feel like a complete loser. I'm fifteen, and I feel like bawling like I'm five."

"It doesn't matter how old we get," Gracia responded softly. "When our loved ones are hurting, we hurt too."

Ethan looked guilty. "I'm sorry. I haven't been thinking about anyone else's pain other than me I guess, and Mom and Dad."

"And Sara?"

"Well yeah her too. And Aldon. And Uncle Al…"

"Sounds to me like you've been worrying about _everyone's _pain," Gracia pointed out. "That's an awful lot to take on."

Ethan nodded, and Gracia could see the gears turning for the first time in a while. It was a start. Finally he sighed heavily. "You're going to make me go talk to Doc Gray aren't you?"

"Yes. You're not sleeping well, you're not eating enough, you're depressed a lot of the time, and you're having stomach pains," Gracia ran down the list. "I'm guessing they're stress induced. Don't you think that sounds like you should talk to her?" He _was_ studying to become a doctor after all.

"Yeah," Ethan nodded, looking despondent and miserable and younger than his fifteen years. He just seemed lost.

**April 25****th****, 1953**

Gracia did not make Ethan go to school the next day. She had an appointment scheduled for him to go see Doctor Gray in the morning. She even went with him, as unnecessary as it probably was. Gracia wanted to hear for herself what the Doctor had to say. _Someone_ had to play parent to the poor boy.

Doc Gray took one look at Ethan and shook her head. Her diagnosis was what Gracia had expected. With the amount of stress and pressure Ethan was dealing with, it was no wonder he was depressed and having digestive problems. Ethan was ordered to take the next couple of days off of school, eat anything Gracia put in front of him that she deemed appropriate, and he was to rest. No studying, no coming in to work at the hospital, no cracking the alchemy books, and no leaving the house on his own. Ethan humbly accepted the verdict and strictures without complaint. That only served to convince Gracia of the severity of the problem. No self-respecting, healthy teenage boy would have taken it so agreeably.

Gracia and Ethan stopped at the little café on the way home and ate lunch. Ethan actually ate the deli sandwich he ordered and the vanilla malt. When they got home, he went upstairs to lie down.

It was then that Gracia decided to do what she had wanted to for weeks. It didn't take more than a couple of hours to whip up a casserole. She left a note on the door telling Ethan she had gone to run an errand and to _stay home_. If he was bored he could bathe his dog. Then she headed for Edward's.

* * *

Edward had no idea who would be knocking on his door at five-thirty in the evening. He had only just gotten home himself. With plenty of time to work with Al covering his combat classes, he'd had no excuses for staying late. So he had taken to coming home early and _keeping himself distracted_ from what was upstairs until he passed out. He'd taken the phone off the hook the past couple of weeks – mostly cause he had forgotten for a couple of days, and then hadn't bothered to put it back. Apparently no one had noticed either. No one had commented, which meant no one had called.

It was so odd to hear knocking that Ed actually went to the door and answered it. He froze when he saw Gracia Hughes standing on his front porch holding a covered dish. "Hi," he finally remembered to speak.

Gracia brushed right past him, looking around the house as she moved briskly, setting the dish down on the table. As she grimaced, Ed cringed. The house was a disaster. He had never cleaned up the mess made the night he'd trashed it, and it hadn't gotten any better since. Most nights he never made it upstairs anymore, and there was laundry scattered across the floor – socks and shorts mostly. The table and half the kitchen counter was covered in half-empty take out food containers and bags. _Most _of the time he remembered to dump the food in the trash. Still, it smelled and it looked pretty nasty.

"Is that pie?" he asked hopefully, trying to get her attention somewhere other than on the mess.

"No it isn't," Gracia turned her fixed expression on Ed instead as she uncovered it to reveal a casserole. "I have it on good authority that you're not eating properly. I figured this would be better."

Ed scowled. He didn't care for her tone at all. "Thanks, but I can take care of myself."

"You call this taking care of yourself?" Gracia scoffed, gesturing out across the room with one hand.

"Okay, so I don't feel like housekeeping."

"A little dust and a few dirty dishes are _don't feel like housekeeping_." She was really getting onto him. Who the hell did she think she was? "This is unsanitary and disgusting, Edward."

"One opinion," Ed grumbled for lack of a better come-back.

Gracia eyed him sharply. "At least _you're_ clean," she commented flatly. "So what's the _real _reason you chopped your hair off, Edward? Don't tell me it was for convenience."

"It does cut the shower time in half," Ed replied flippantly. He resisted the urge to throw her out of the house. Whether it was some last remaining shred of good manners, or the glaring image of Maes Hughes in his head for even _considering _raising his voice or a hand to her, Ed didn't do it. She was also the only person who had asked _why _instead of what. "What it stood for isn't who I am anymore," he finally said, looking away. "All those ideals ever did was cause trouble for people around me and get them killed." Like Hughes. "I made Winry miserable because of them."

"That may be the most stupid, selfish reason to lop off hair I have ever heard," Gracia snorted, crossing her arms under her breasts. "Yes, you were inconsiderate, but at least before it was accidental, Edward. You didn't mean to hurt, Winry. _This_ time you're doing it on purpose; to her and to everyone else you know!"

"Who wants to spend time with me anymore anyway?" Ed smirked meanly. "No one _needs_ me, Gracia. As Winry so graciously pointed out to me, I am highly, utterly, completely _replaceable_."

Gracia had not been privy to most of Edward and Winry's arguments. There was no way she could know what they had said to each other, unless Winry had told her. "What about Ethan?"

The non sequitur caught Ed off guard. "Ethan? Is something wrong?"

"Do you have any idea what this is doing to that boy?"

Ed looked away from her accusatory expression. "Ethan's old enough to take care of himself." Hell, he would probably be better off without Ed around anyway. He hadn't talked to his son except briefly in passing in weeks.

That was obviously the wrong answer. "He's a _boy_, Edward!" Gracia's voice got louder. "You had very strong feelings about your parents when you were that age; _especially _about your father whom you could barely even remember. How do you think _he_ feels about this? About what you're doing?"

If she was trying to yank the threads of guilt wrapped around his heart, she was succeeding with ruthless efficiency. "He's fifteen."

"Were _you_ a grown up at fifteen?"

"Well…no."

"Neither is your son. He grew up in a stable home with two parents who love him, and now all of that's been ripped right out from under him. You're not the only one who needs support and someone to count on. His _world _is falling apart. Is _this _how you want him to see you? As the man who drove his mother away? He doesn't understand." It was a passionate plea on behalf of his son, and it ripped Ed to the core that it was someone else giving it to_ him. _

But something else caught his attention. "Me? Why would he blame me? Winry's the one who left!"

Gracia shook her head. "I've already given Winry a piece of my mind about this. As for Ethan, it's because he can see the whole situation as well as the rest of us. He's worrying himself _sick,_ Edward, and I don't mean figuratively. He loves you both and he's afraid that neither of you will recover from this."

"He's over-reacting." Ed knew that for sure. _He _did it often enough. Not that it excused his behavior. _Nothing_ excused his behavior anymore.

"Even Sara and Aldon are upset," Gracia countered. "How could they not be; watching their father turn into a complete_ jack-ass_ and an _alcoholic_?"

The last word stuck hard in his mind. Gracia was the first one, in all this time, who had used it. Until now he had been able to deny it to himself. Whether it was that, or the fact that the only woman he had known in years who still reminded him so very much of his mother was absolutely furious with him and dressing him down like some child – had she really just used the word jack-ass? – Ed didn't know. All he knew was he just couldn't take it anymore. The dam broke.

"That's enough!" Ed flinched and spun around shouting.

Gracia didn't budge. "Don't start with me! It's the truth. Can you _honestly_ tell me you haven't had a drink in the last twelve hours?"

Ed_ couldn't_ argue, so he said nothing.

Gracia wasn't done with him. "Eight? Four? You've only been off duty for half an hour. You can't tell me that's healthy or even remotely acceptable."

"I'm _not_ drunk," Ed glowered. He wasn't!

Gracia shook her head sadly, and the quiet tone she took was almost worse than the yelling. "You don't have to _be_ constantly drunk to have a drinking problem. You know that as well as anyone else."  
Ed turned away again, hiding the tears that threatened to spill down his face. "You're out of line, Gracia."

"Am I? No, you're the one who's out of line, Edward. You're so far off track that you can't even see it anymore. You're not behaving rationally."

"So _you _think I'm broken too." He had no one left.

"I think you need help, and no, I _don't _believe you'll get it yourself. If you dare tell me you're trying I'll call you a liar. Maes and I didn't just lose friends _in_ the war. Ishbal took the lives of a lot of good men even after it was over in longer, slower, much more painful ways."

"Get out." He couldn't stand to hear any more, but something inexplicably drew him to turn around again and face her wrath. Maybe it was guilt; maybe it was because he deserved every word of it. Ed tried not to consider that it might be because she was right.

"You may think you're in control of things, but you're not. You're just the only one who can't see it," Gracia continued without budging an inch. Her gentle green eyes held that intensity he wasn't used to seeing. "Or won't. Yes, you could keep this up for years. But eventually it'll kill you, if you don't do it yourself first."

That hit a very raw, painful nerve Ed hadn't expected. Guilt bubbled to the surface as he thought of how he had accidentally almost accomplished just that so very recently. A mere couple of weeks and it still felt like yesterday and at the same time, an eternity.

"Please, just leave me alone," he finally pleaded quietly. He couldn't face her onslaught anymore.

She had one more twist however. "Is this even _about_ you and Winry anymore? If you've really given up then do Winry a favor and file for divorce. You know _she_ won't do it." Gracia glanced at his hand and it was all Ed could do to resist the urge to hide it. He had never taken off his wedding band.

Ed shook his head as he turned around again. "Winry's the one who left." The words were little more than a whisper. His hands were shaking and he felt ill.

"What pushed her to make that decision, Edward? Years ago, you gave up your arm and leg trying to bring back your mother and then save Alphonse. Isn't it worth giving up a little pride on both your parts to save your _marriage?_ Is_ this _worth losing Winry after everything it took for you two to be together? After everything you've _been_ through together? Do you really think things are better for you and your family this way?" She had to know the answers to all of those questions before she asked them, because so did Ed.

"But, after everything I've done…" How could Winry want him after this? How could anyone?

"Throwing away everything you've accomplished because you made one very human mistake is awfully _childish_," Gracia countered his argument simply. She no longer sounded ferociously angry, just sad and very tired. "I remember a very resilient, stubborn pair of young boys I met once. My husband thought quite a lot of them, and they helped me through a very trying time. You give and give, Edward, even when you don't think about it. Don't mistake carelessness for malice." The same woman who was berating him was telling Ed that he wasn't entirely to blame and he wasn't the screw up he felt like. This had to be the most bizarre dressing down he had ever received!

"So what do I do?" Surely she had a solution, or at least some suggestion for one. Otherwise Ed was sure Gracia had just wasted a very good tirade.

The answer was simple and harsher than he would have liked, but refreshingly honest. "File for divorce or get your sorry ass down to Resembool and _get Winry back_."


	9. Reconstruction 1

**April 26****th****, 1953**

Alphonse nearly panicked when Edward didn't show up for work by noon. He tried calling Ed's house but got only a tone. Gracia had told him about her argument with Ed the night before so he had been expecting a very grumpy brother to show up at work, or perhaps a very hung-over one.

_No_ brother was not an acceptable alternative.

Fearing that Ed might have finally snapped, Al left work in the early afternoon and drove over to Ed's house. All he found was a note tacked to the door that read:

_Out of town on urgent business. ~EE _

Urgent business? Where the hell would Ed have gone? He had barely left his house except to go to Headquarters for months! Al was glad he had a spare key to the house. He had stopped using it when Ed was home because he hadn't wanted to start more fights walking in on Ed when Ed didn't want him there. Now he felt no compunction. He picked up the phone receiver from where it hung next to the table and dialed Gracia's house.

He read her the note. "You saw Ed yesterday," he said when he finished. "Where would he have gone?"

Gracia's reply was unexpectedly cryptic. "Where do you think, Alphonse?"

Well, Al knew where he _hoped_ Ed had gone.

**May 5****th****, 1953**

It took Edward most of the train ride to Resembool to successfully sober up. It was a humbling experience, and he was glad he was alone in his berth. He finally succeeded a couple of days outside of the village in going a full day without a drink. It might be only one but it was a start. Failure was not an option. Not if he wanted any chance of convincing Winry to come back to him. Gracia was right. What she had said to him had snapped something inside him. Whatever it was he wasn't sure, but it was like something had _reconnected_ in his mind. He didn't like who he was now anymore than the person he had tried to avoid. He knew why now and what he _had_ to do.

Night was falling as Ed stepped off the train onto the familiar Resembool station platform. He hadn't brought more than the small sack he could sling on his back, so there was no need for a porter.

Old man Parker at the station gave him a startled look of recognition and then an odd expression. "Good evening, Edward."

Ed had not even thought about the fact that he would be recognized. Of course everyone in Resembool older than the children knew who he was. Very little had changed other than the fact that the people he knew had gotten older. "Good evening," he replied simply, not sure what to say. Winry had been here for three months. Everyone in the _village_ had to know what had happened between them. That was how things worked around here.

"You know the way to the house," the old man smiled slightly.

Ed nodded, finding the odd exchange a little reassuring. "I do." He turned and headed out of the station and up the familiar road.

From that point, Ed could have found the Rockbell house with his eyes closed. This was good because there were still no lights on the dirt road he followed. It was a strange feeling to be coming home this time, yet familiar as well. He was returning and Winry was at the house with no idea when or if he would ever come back. The irony of the circumstances was not lost on him.

Ed saw the house well before he reached it. The lights were on. Before he rounded the last hill Ed stopped and picked a handful of the wildflowers that grew in rampant abundance this time of year. He knew they wouldn't magically make Winry forgive him but he thought she might like them anyway. It made him feel better to feel like he was bringing her_ something _other than the tattered remains of who he used to be.

He approached the house from the road by cutting across the grass in the dark, his heart nearly stopping on his way up the hill. The doors to the upstairs room were open, flooding light out onto the upstairs balcony and outlining the dark silhouette of a figure he could never mistake for anyone else.

As he stood alone in the dark underneath the balcony, feeling nervous and a little silly, Ed was reminded of a play he had seen performed once in France; a man, in the dark below, afraid to profess his love in person. Only Ed did not have someone to play his front face. He would have to do this on his own. Though he thought he remembered the translation. "A kiss, when all is said,—what is it? An oath that's ratified,—a sealed promise, A heart's avowal claiming confirmation."

The silhouette moved, clearly startled at the unexpected words. She looked around, then down. Despite the dark, Ed could just make out Winry's face and her stunned expression. "Edward… is that you?"

Ed stepped out of the shadows into the dim light that spilled over from the balcony and the deck below it. "We've kissed thousands of times Winry; thousands of oaths and promises I've made you in my lifetime. I don't know how many of them I've broken over the years, especially lately, but I'm sorry."

His heart beat faster as he waited in a long silence that seemed to stretch for eternity. Winry watched him. "Sweet poetics for an alchemist," she replied simply.

Ed wished he could read her expressions better. "I'll make the words plainer if that's what you want," he tried not to swallow his tongue out of fear. "I know I don't have any right to ask for your forgiveness but I had to come see you. I _have_ to talk to you."

"That appears to be what you're doing now doesn't it?"

Ed thought – he hoped – she sounded slightly amused. He moved around to another angle hoping to really see her face. He would die on the spot if she sent him home. "Permission to come in?"

"No." Winry replied after another long moment. Ed's heart sank as she turned away from the balcony. "I'll come down." Ed felt momentary relief that faded quickly as he waited. A couple of minutes later Winry stepped out the door and came to the edge of the front deck. "Coran and Art are asleep. I've been watching them some so that Aldon and Cassie can have a little time to themselves. I didn't want us to wake them."

Ed's heart twinged. He hadn't even_ met_ his second grandson in person yet, and he had missed out on a large part of Coran's life so far as well. "Can I see them?" he asked hesitantly.

"Depends on how well you behave," Winry countered softly, though now he was sure she wasn't angry at least. "Come up here," she gestured to the table which sat under the lights from the windows. "It's silly for you to stand down there in the dark."

Ed didn't disagree; he just stepped up into the light, tentatively holding out the wildflowers. "I picked these…on the way from the train." He felt even more awkward than if he were asking her on a date. Another thing he had never really done before, his mind poked at his conscience. He told it that after marriage counted.

Winry blinked, surprised. After a moment she reached out and took them. "Thank you." She looked up then and her eyes widened. There was a pang of sadness there that Ed hadn't expected; at least, not so soon after his arrival. "You cut your hair."

"What? Oh! Yeah," Ed shrugged, feeling markedly more uneasy by the moment. He had completely forgotten that she hadn't seen his hair short. Somehow he had just assumed someone from Central would have told her. "You don't like it?"

"The last time I had to trim it up that short you hated it," Winry smiled just a little. At least she didn't seem any surer of herself or where this was going than he did.

"I seem to recall you liked it though," Ed remembered.

Winry nodded thoughtfully. "Is that why you did it?"

Ed sighed. "I wish I could say yes." He shrugged. "I needed a change, and it was the easiest thing to cut off that I wasn't going to need later." The half-hearted humor fell flat even in his mind. "It stood for everything about me that ruined our lives. I couldn't take it after I drove you off."

Winry looked pained again. Wasn't he saying anything right? "You never ruined our lives, Ed. You made them unnecessarily difficult sometimes certainly, but I fell in love with you knowing you could be difficult. I'm not exactly easy to deal with sometimes either am I?"

That was not the response Ed had expected; yelling maybe, or a confirmation of his guilt. "Then why did you leave me?"

Winry's reply was softly hesitant. "I'm sorry, Edward. But I need support too, and I was _trying_, but you… you gave up. I could see it in your eyes, in the way you moved even. It hurt so badly I could almost taste it." Her tone was not accusatory, just sadly accepting. Tears budded in her eyes though they did not spill over yet. "But no one can just keep giving forever without getting _something _back, and you couldn't understand. Or wouldn't…I didn't know anymore." She shook her head. "But you wouldn't get help, and there was nothing I could do that was helping either, and it was just making things harder to watch you tear yourself apart, and tear me down at the same time. I needed time to get my feet back under me. I… I felt like maybe it was my fault; that if I was part of the problem than maybe a break would help you too. I was afraid I was making it worse. Can you understand that?" There was hurt and fear in her eyes when she looked back up at him.

"I can," Ed stepped close to her, wishing he dared take her in his arms. "I'm so sorry, Winry. Really…" He made himself meet her beautiful blue eyes, to see and accept the pain he had put there. It was time to stop blaming himself and do something about it. "You were right about _all _of it, and I couldn't take the idea that I'd ignored you and hurt you that badly for so long. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you or our family, and I did it anyway."

Ed reached for the right words in his mind, trying to express himself. It was a lot harder when he feared saying something that would bring things down around his ears with a last hushed whimper. "I'm nothing without _you,_ Winry; just a pathetic jerk; an ass that drinks too much and pushes away everything he treasures most. I've hurt Alphonse and Elicia and the kids. I've alienated so many people and treated them like trash. But the worst in all of this is that I hurt you and in doing so I lost not only the woman I love most, but my best friend." Ed bit his lip, forcing himself to keep going. It was _do or die_ on this one. He couldn't afford to be anything but honest. "I'll give up everything: the military, alchemy, all of it. I'll be whatever you want me to be, but I can't live without you… It's not worth_ living _without you."

She seemed to understand the unspoken meaning behind it. Ed had to admit, he wasn't sure how long he would_ want_ to continue living without Winry. He already found himself precariously close to not caring about it anymore, and to killing himself over it, however unintentionally. Still, he had died before. What was one more time?

Those blue eyes seemed to be searching his soul for something; sincerity probably. "What makes this time different?"

Ed offered her a hopeful half-smile when she didn't say no. "This time I'm really listening."

That seemed to be the right answer. Ed didn't have to reach for her; Winry fell into his arms and hugged him tightly, wetness gleamed in her eyes. "Then believe me when I tell you that I never wanted it to come to this either. I just didn't know what to do anymore. I'm so sorry," and she burst out sobbing.

Ed held her close as she cried. "It's not your fault," he tried to argue.

"Don't say that," Winry shook her head slightly without moving from his embrace, though she tilted her head so their eyes met, still crying as she spoke. "It's not about blame, Edward, and whether it is or not shut up and let me talk. I love you. I've always known that there were things you would do no matter what because they needed to be done; that if you felt you had to do something than nothing could stop you. It's one of the things I love most about you. But when we were younger it was easier. We had time and a lot less to worry about and take care of…."

Her grip on him tightened. "Then we had a family and a life in Central and everything was safe there and good and I hoped maybe we could finally have a little peace. But the world never gives us that, and when the kids were little it was always me who stayed behind when there was something that had to be done. It wasn't anyone's fault; that was just the situation. After what happened to my parents I wanted them to always have one of us around."

"We both wanted that," Ed whispered.

"I know, and it couldn't be you," Winry sniffled. "I know that. You've done so many wonderful things for other people; I just wished you'd give a little more thought to what you were leaving behind when you'd make the decision to go and at least ask _before_ you made the decision. I wanted our kids to have you too and…and I wanted us to have more time together. However selfish that is it's how I feel. I'm sorry I said you could be replaced. There _are_ plenty of people who could have gone to Aerugo, but you did what you thought you had to at the time."

"I don't feel that way about it anymore," Ed admitted when she paused.

There was a small smirk through Winry's tears. "I thought as much and I'm sorry for that too. I never wanted to cause you more pain. I just wanted to find you and make sure you were all right. Most of our children were safe at home and I thought it would be all right. I needed to see for myself, and I needed to get out and do _my_ part."

Ed could hardly believe what he was listening to. It should have been so obvious to him before, but he hadn't been listening and she had stopped trying to explain. She was right though; it wasn't about the blame. What mattered was fixing the problem, and that was where they had failed to communicate. "I was selfish too, trying to keep you for myself when you've supported my decisions even when I knew they upset you." His throat tightened. "I don't know what changed. Everything was going so well and then it all felt like it was falling apart. I've done a lot that I'm not proud of."

"We changed," Winry replied. "We're not sixteen anymore, Edward, or eighteen or twenty-five or even fifty. People change and that means the way we deal with things is different; that means a relationship has to evolve to work, and we weren't communicating."

"You've thought about this a lot haven't you?" Ed smiled just slightly through damp eyes. She had been thinking while he'd been drowning his sorrows and wallowing in the past. He felt surprised – and guilty at feeling a little justified – at her insistence on taking part of the blame.

"Every day," Winry nodded. "I don't think I'll ever stop loving you. I couldn't if I wanted to… and I don't. I've tried to find a solution, but nothing ever seemed like it would work. Then Al told me how you were and I… I knew I couldn't help even though I tried calling. I hate being weak."

"You're not weak," Ed argued with her. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Winry! Yet you're human. We both are. That means we don't always have the answers or do things the way we should. If I'd been smart I'd have been saying this months ago instead of wasting all this time feeling stupid and sorry for myself." She had tried to call? The image of the phone left off the hook for days came to his mind. He really _was _an idiot.

He seemed to be saying things right again because Winry appeared to be calming down. "It's enough that you're saying it now," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I have to admit, I wasn't expecting this kind of a reception," Ed replied after a moment. "I figured it would involve a lot more tools being flung at my head."

At that Winry actually giggled. "Well maybe it's silly, but tonight's a first."  
She'd lost him. "What do you mean?"

Winry's arms came up around his neck. "This is the first time I've ever been the thing you went looking for."

Ed paused, mouth frozen half open to speak as he realized she was right. In all these years Winry had never been the object of his quest. Always she had come for him while he searched for other things, tried to meet his goals. He had beaten himself up for leaving her behind so often now, and this just dove-tailed in very nicely. "Well from now on that's going to change," he promised, clutching her tightly. "Will you come home, Winry? Please, come back to me."

She stiffened slightly in his embrace and Ed felt his stomach turn in knots. "I want to… but I don't want to say goodbye again. Too many times I've thought you were gone for good and it nearly broke my heart. I can't handle something like this again."

"Winry…."

"Let me finish," she sniffled and looked up with a small smile despite the tears, "I love you, Ed, and I want to come home and fix things more than anything in the world …but there are conditions." She looked like she hated to set them, but he understood.

Well, he had _said_ she could set any she wanted. "What are they?" Here it went…

Winry nodded. "First: no more running off into wars; not for either of us. Not unless we talk and decide it really _is_ necessary. This was already too much for both of us."

"All right," Ed continued to hold her. He never wanted to let her go again. He never wanted to do what he had in Aerugo again either. He'd talk to Breda about that. "What else?"

"We actually get _help_. I mean talk to someone else who isn't part of this. We do it together and actually take their advice._ Sometimes _we're very good at taking care of each other, but others…."

Others…he still felt were his fault. She didn't have to say it, but Ed thought it even though Winry would insist it was both of theirs if he pressed. And it wasn't that she blamed him, but Ed wasn't good at giving back when he was emotionally unstable himself. He knew he shouldn't assign blame, but the pains of the last few months would be a long time in healing. "Yes ma'am," he replied softly. He disliked the idea on principle, but he would put his all into it if it meant keeping Winry. They really did need an outside perspective. The look on Winry's face said she did not actually expect him to like the idea. "Anything else?"

Winry nodded seriously and plowed ahead without hesitation on the last one. "No more drinking, Edward. It scares me how easily you take to it now. You got lucky before, but this time… you need help."

"I know," Ed replied quietly with resignation. He had gone for roughly a year and a half without a drop after Havoc died. None at all until Winry had appeared in Bueáire and torn into him with a ferocity he couldn't have imagined, let alone been prepared for. He had been so sure she'd already left him he hadn't been able to think clearly, and Winry hadn't made things clear.

Which just made him a _real_ idiot. Even Alphonse had said he shouldn't assume, but Ed had been too busy wallowing in over-emotional pain. Winry was right; he'd jumped right back to where he'd crawled up from almost twelve years ago when things got difficult. The fact that he had been grieving for what he had been sure was the situation he now found himself on the brink of for real was no excuse. Ed had scolded Roy for the very excuses and reasons and problem he now used and dealt with every day. Talk about a hypocrite. He owed the man an apology.

The worst part was that he went to it willingly. It was _always _a conscious decision in the beginning. Roy was right; alchemists were sad, predictable things. At least perhaps the two of _them_ shared that fact in common. Gracia had pegged it the other day with painful clarity. Ed had successfully walked that line without toppling on and off for most of his life, but he'd fallen far and hard now. It was going to be a long climb back up.

"Edward?" Winry was looking up at him, he realized, waiting for an answer while he mused and wallowed…as usual. Damn it old habits were hard to break!

Ed shook his head ever so slightly and nodded, still holding on to her gently. They had barely touched in the months after the war, and he hadn't _seen_ her in three. She was still as beautiful and irresistible as he remembered, and he was damned lucky she was willing to come home at all. "It may take time," he replied. "But I will. I promise."

Winry didn't respond verbally, but she snuggled a little closer into the circle of his arms, the way she used to. It made his heart ache even as hope rekindled inside him.

"Are you okay? I mean…did this help?" Ed asked after a long silence, talking about the time apart.

"It did," Winry nodded. "Thanks for asking." The lighter tone made it clear that the fact that he had asked was something she really did appreciate. "I'm sorry it came to this, but yes, I needed it and I've been feeling better."

"When will you come home?" Perhaps he was pushing things, but right now he could reallyuse the reassurance of a definitive answer.

Winry thought for a moment. "A couple of weeks? I need to wrap up a couple of projects and pack. I hate to leave the boys though. They've been little angels." She stepped back just a little then, but with what Ed hoped was a little hesitation.

"Would it…would it wake them if I peeked in?" Ed asked. He would take the tentative time as an answer. It was the best he was going to get and he wasn't about to push.

Winry smiled. "No, I suppose not."

Ed followed her inside, noticing absently that the house looked a little different. Fresher, newer, though mostly the same. He hadn't been here since Aldon and Cassie moved in. Winry put the wildflowers in a vase with water. Then they went upstairs and Winry slowly opened the door to one of the rooms.

Light spilled across a basinet and a low bed. Sleeping in each was a small boy. Coran had grown so much since Ed had seen him almost two years ago that tears came to his eyes. His grandson was three now. The boy slept hard, lying on his stomach with his backside up in the air. Ed almost laughed.

Reichart was adorable; the infant in the basinet slept on his back, tucked carefully in so he wouldn't roll over and tangle himself.

"They're perfect," Ed whispered.

Winry smiled. "They are."

They left the boys alone then. Ed certainly didn't want to get in trouble for waking them up! He followed Winry back downstairs. "So where are Aldon and Cassie?" he asked. It was getting on towards nine o'clock.

"Just down the road visiting friends," Winry replied, leaning against the table. "It's good that they can get away sometimes." Now that Ed wasn't terrified that he was going to be told to leave on sight, he took a really good look at his wife. Her hair was still shorter than he remembered, but it had grown out a couple of inches since she had cut it, and it fell long enough that from the front it looked almost like it had before. It was pretty. He couldn't understand now why it had irritated him so much at the time. Of course, lately a lot of things in his head didn't make sense. Winry looked great; certainly better than _he _did when he looked at himself in the mirror.

"What are you thinking?" Winry asked him, her head cocked slightly to one side.

"How beautiful you look." Ed had no reason to say anything beyond his actual thoughts. It had been too long since he told her that.

Winry blushed, her cheeks tinged pink, and Ed was reminded of their childhood, when their emotions for each other were never spoken beyond glances and the occasional blush. "Thank you."

"It's the truth," Ed smiled. This still felt too easy a resolution, like the world was going to blow apart again any second, even with the conditions Winry had set. Those would be difficult, but Ed had already started on the last one. He had felt lousy for so long that the headache that came and went didn't bother him much yet. The worst was still to come but he could deal with that. For Winry he would willingly go through infinitely worse than the withdrawal that was just really starting.

Winry smiled. "It's good to have you back, Edward."

Ed felt his own face flush. "Thanks. It's good to_ be_ back." He was beginning to feel like himself again. Albeit a rather battered, bruised, and humbled self. Things were a long way from perfect, or even from really being _fixed._ Ed knew there was no going back but maybe now, finally, they could both move forward together.

* * *

Up until Edward appeared under her balcony, if anyone had asked what Winry intended to do about her life situation, she would have told them she did not know. All she had been slowly refusing to come to terms with was the idea that maybe Ed didn't even _want_ her back. If he had, why hadn't he come to her?

The answer she had come up with was _'because Edward never looked for her.' _She had never been the object of his quest, but the one left behind, or brought along if she insisted. Of course Ed would never come looking for her.

But he had! And her heart had thrilled when he showed up without warning, looking much the worse for wear and begging for her forgiveness. Winry knew Edward, and_ this_ was the Ed she knew how to deal with. His reactions were the ones she was familiar with. He was awkward but sincere; honest and earnest. This was the boy, now the man, she had loved for so long.

Winry's heart went out to Ed as she watched him. He had gripped her so tightly when she hugged him and apologized that she wondered if he was afraid she would vanish like a dream. He looked even worse than when she left. From talking to friends and family she had some idea of what he had been doing to himself, and it was painfully obvious that he had suffered for it. At least he was acting like_ Edward. _Winry could read him again; his expressions and actions were familiar, and that was how she knew she could believe him.

As they stood there talking the front door opened and Aldon and Cassie came in. "Dad?" Aldon's disbelieving stare turned almost immediately into a smile as Cassie closed the door. "What are you doing here? No one told us you were coming!" Without a moment's hesitation, Aldon crossed the room and hugged his father tightly.

Winry chuckled at Ed's bemused look. He had obviously _not _been expecting a warm reception from his son anymore than he had been from her.

"I had something important to do," Ed replied as Aldon stepped back. He glanced meaningfully over at Winry, and she felt her heart pick up just a little.

Aldon got the message. "I hope we aren't interrupting anything."

"Not at all," Winry stepped in, smiling. "We've just been talking. Did you have a good time?"

"We did," Cassie nodded, though she too was giving them a curious look. "Thanks for putting the boys to bed."

"My pleasure," Winry replied. It was nothing really. She loved spending time with her grandsons. "They were no trouble at all."

"Well that's good," Aldon chuckled, his smile broken by a jaw cracking yawn. "I think I'm going to follow their example."

"You mean you're going to stop making trouble?" Cassie teased as he headed for the stairs.

"I mean I'm going to sleep while I can so I get some rest despite waking up at least twice during the night," Aldon put his arm around her shoulders as they vanished into the hall. "Good night, Mom, Dad." The way he said the rest, Winry knew Aldon had likely already figured out the tone and outcome of their conversation and was purposefully playing it casual. Edward didn't look like he could handle too much stress at the moment. She felt guilty again briefly, realizing how hard it had been for him to face her because he blamed himself even for things that weren't his doing.

They were left alone again and Ed looked even more dazed. "I guess I should find a spare pillow," he commented awkwardly after a moment. "It's a little late to find someplace else to sleep."

It only took Winry a moment to make a decision. In truth, she wanted to see if he would even accept the offer. "You know, the guest bed _is_ sized for two."

She watched as Ed's face slowly registered confusion, comprehension, and then a moment of disbelief that was touched with hope. Then he covered it with a quick, cocky smile; weaker than usual, but there none the less. "Are you trying to seduce me in your parents' house?"

Winry rolled her eyes but she couldn't help chuckling. "I'm saying you don't have to sleep on the couch… and I miss you."

"I don't know," Ed admitted, looking uneasy. "I still have dreams."

"I'll risk it," Winry closed the distance between them. "Unless you think I'm not capable of handling you," she arched one eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," Ed shook his head and looked abashed.

Winry gave over teasing. He obviously wasn't ready for that yet. "I know. Let's get some sleep, okay? We can talk more tomorrow when we're both rested."

Ed didn't argue and Winry found it slightly strange, yet reassuring, when they both changed for bed and slipped under the covers. Ed curled up on his side and, difficult as it was, she did not try and snuggle up to him just yet. Pushing too fast would do more harm than good. He was making overtures. She would be patient. He must have been exhausted because within five minutes she heard the familiar sound of even breathing that she knew meant Ed was deeply asleep.

Winry slept fitfully during the night. It wasn't unusual lately. Often she would wake up overheating or too cold, or cramping and uncomfortable. Tonight it was a little of that but more often it was the fact that Ed was there, and after three months that felt like she was still dreaming.

He woke her up twice. The first time, she came awake when Ed cried out and rolled. Winry sat up and looked at him. Ed had curled up on himself and when she leaned over she could hear him whimpering her name. Tentatively, Winry put one hand on his shoulder then let it run down his arm. She leaned over him and squeezed his hand. Almost immediately he settled, his muscles relaxed, and he uncurled a little. Ed did not wake, but it warmed Winry to know that her presence relaxed him.

The second time was even better. Winry wasn't sure what woke her at first. It was only after a few bewildered seconds that she realized that Edward had rolled over and snuggled up against her back, his auto-mail arm over her, holding her against his chest. The light touch of his breath brushed across her ear, tickling it with wisps of her hair.

**May 6****th****, 1953**

Winry knew better than to fight her body. When she awoke naturally before six in the morning she got up, wrapped up in her favorite robe – the pretty one Edward had brought her from Xing – and headed downstairs. She didn't want to wake Ed before he was ready. He looked and acted like it had been a long time since he had a restful night's sleep. She fixed herself her usual morning cup of herbal tea. Just as she was sitting down to drink it she heard hurried feet on the stairs.

Ed came into the room almost a run and stopped dead when he saw her, the expression of panic on his face fading to relief, and then embarrassment as she watched him, cup half raised to her lips. "I… I didn't chase you out did I?" he asked softly.

"What? No!" She assured him. It hadn't occurred to her that leaving him in bed might panic him. "You were fine. I just overheat sometimes, and I wake up anyway most nights."

"Are you all right? You're not sick or anything?" He was so worried and honestly concerned that it made Winry feel oddly happy.

She chuckled. "No I'm not sick; though I should have figured that out earlier." At Ed's confused look, she continued. "Think about it Edward; the weight gain, mood swings, hot flashes and mild nausea..."

Ed's confusion did not fade, though he began to look mildly alarmed. "But you can't be…."

Winry laughed aloud at that! She couldn't help it. "Don't flatter yourself. You're no super man. It's more like the opposite of that."

Realization dawned in Ed's eyes. "Oh…so all of the attitude and bad temper was because of menopause?"

"It was an aggravating factor." Winry nodded. She couldn't lie and say she hadn't really been angry with him, no matter how much her hormones messed with her emotions and self-control. Besides, Ed knew her better than that. He would not have believed it for a moment either. Winry was still embarrassed that she hadn't figured out what should have been obvious so they could have dealt with it sooner and possibly avoided a lot of this whole mess.

"You sure you're old enough for that?" Ed asked but he was smiling, daring to tease her a little.

Winry smiled back. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

Ed sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed. "You're right, we should have known sooner." After all, Riza had gone through it, though it had been years ago. So had some of her other friends. Apparently he felt like he should have figured it out too.

"I finally talked to a doctor when I got here. Aldon and Cassie insisted," Winry explained. "I've apparently been having issues with it since before you left for Aerugo. I couldn't figure out why I was so irritated with you all the time, even before the war mess came up, or why I didn't _want_ you." She didn't have to say it any plainer than that.

Ed looked like part of the world had lifted from his shoulders. "I thought maybe it was my fault," he admitted. "That you were tired of me or…something."

"Well I certainly wasn't interested in anyone else," Winry chuckled, sipping her tea.

"Thank goodness." Ed came over to the table and sat down, sniffing as he did so. "What's that?" he asked at the unfamiliar scent.

"The tea was recommended by a doctor. It's a local remedy," Winry smiled. "It can't fix everything of course, but it helps. She had a couple of other recommendations too. At least I don't feel like I'm losing my mind anymore."

"Well that's good," Ed smiled weakly. He went quiet then, simply gazing at her as she sipped her tea. It was mildly disconcerting, but Winry did not call attention to it immediately. It was a much nicer way of looking at her than the hurtful glares and sneers she had gotten the last time they had spent any length of time together. She had no illusions that everything was fine now and would go back to the way it was before, but now Winry was much more certain that things could and _would_ be mended given time and effort.

Finally she just had to chuckle. "You can blink, Edward. I won't disappear."

He did just that, and then looked embarrassed. "Sorry… I… You look good." He reached out for her, then hesitated and pulled back. A frustrated frown creased his brow. "Damn it! I feel like I don't have the right to touch you anymore; at least not initiate."

"Ed, look at this." Winry patiently held up her left hand and then pulled his up with it. With their fingers intertwined, two gold bands shone in the morning light. "What does that tell you?"

Her husband looked like he might cry. "I never meant to give up on us Winry. I swear! It just never occurred to me that I could lose you in any way outside of death. Then you were in Aerugo, and we fought and the things you said sounded like… "

"I know," Winry sighed. "And I'm sorry for that."

"I know you didn't mean it that way," Ed replied, obviously flustered. "But it was so sudden. By the time I got home I was sure you'd already left me…and then you were there, and it was confusing and I wasn't sure how to deal with it on top of everything else. But I swear…. I never meant to give up on us. I didn't want to. I love you, and I can't live without you."

Winry felt pained when he said that, the same way she had last night. She did not want to consider the possibility that Ed would ever _want _his life to end, and that she might have some part in making him feel that way. "Edward, please…"

"It's true." It was something he seemed to find necessary to discuss. Winry swallowed her discomfort and let him get it off his chest. "When you almost died sixteen years ago, I didn't have a choice. Sara and Aldon were just kids and they needed me. I _couldn't_ fall apart. But this time I couldn't even make myself care anymore. Damn it I'm not even sure Sara and Ethan will want to talk to me again after this. I've been awful to both of them. I still almost can't believe Aldon was so happy to see me last night."

"They will forgive you in time," Winry replied firmly. "Yes, they're both very upset about all this, but do you really think they won't? They're hurting because they love you."

"Yeah, Sara may be hot tempered sometimes, but even she isn't that heartless," Aldon chuckled, coming into the room still in his sleep shorts and t-shirt.

"Good morning," Winry smiled at her son. He looked a little bleary-eyed himself as he sniffed the tea pot, grimaced, and pulled out another one from the cabinet to put on for something for everyone _else _to drink! "We didn't wake you did we?"

"No," Aldon shook his head. "My adorable offspring had that pleasure. Art decided he wanted his breakfast early this morning." He went over to the refrigerator and pantry and began rooting around. "Looks like pancakes and bacon for breakfast," he grinned as he started pulling out meat and ingredients. "That's all we've got that will feed five."

"I'm surprised no one called here after I left," Ed admitted then as Aldon got to work. "Not that I gave them much warning either. Maybe they didn't figure out I came here."

"You didn't tell anyone you were coming?" Winry asked, surprised.

"Who would I tell?" Ed asked. It bothered her that he sounded like he meant it. Then he shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "Well, after Gracia lit into me, I left a note on the door saying I was going out of town and took off."

"Gracia?" Winry hadn't thought to ask what had precipitated Ed's coming to Resembool to track her down other than the fact that he had apparently come to his senses. All that mattered last night was that he was here.

Ed nodded. "She came over and really chewed me out. Maybe it's the fact she still reminds me of Mom sometimes, but I just couldn't get her words out of my head."

"What did she say?" Winry asked.

Ed fidgeted uncomfortably. "She told me I should either go ahead and get it over with and file for divorce or come down here and apologize and beg you to take me back. Well, not in those words exactly," he added after. "There were a lot more of them and they were a lot louder."

Winry owed Gracia the world's biggest hug when she got home. At least as a start of a thank you that she wasn't sure would _ever_ be enough. "And you couldn't do that."

"I couldn't," Ed still had his hand locked in hers and seemed to have no intention of pulling it away as their fingers lay interlaced on the table. He squeezed hers instead, his golden eyes wavering. "Nothing I've ever done and nothing I might do after this is worth anything without you. She made me realize that I could still save what matters most to me. It wasn't too late because it wasn't really over."

"See, people do still care about you," Winry smiled, squeezing his hand in return. "When do you have to go back?" It occurred to her that if he hadn't told anyone he was leaving, he probably couldn't stay long.

"Well I didn't know how long I'd be gone, so I didn't tell anyone when I would be home either," Ed admitted. "I should probably at least call Al and let him know where I am."

"Stay for a few days," Aldon suggested as he mixed pancake batter. "You look like you need a vacation. And if you need us to vacate the house for a while…" he added with a playful grin that made Winry chuckle as Ed blushed. Winry wondered why and felt momentarily saddened. He had been much bolder and sure of their relationship once.

"I think we can manage to find our own privacy if we want it," Winry replied to her son's teasing. She finally let go of Ed's hand so that she could finish drinking her tea.

Aldon turned back to his work. "Suit yourself. It just seems fair after all the time you've given us while you've been here. We'll miss you when you go home you know."

"I know," Winry replied. "And I'll miss all of you." She never took her eyes off of Ed as she spoke. "But I'll be glad to finally get home."

* * *

That afternoon, Edward and Winry went for a walk in the countryside by themselves. As Winry had told Aldon, they _could_ find privacy if they wanted it. There were a thousand little haunts in Resembool that anyone who grew up in those hills knew about. Not that Winry was expecting Ed and her to make use of that fact the way so many teenagers had over the years. There was nothing stopping them, but she didn't want to push things too far too fast. She also didn't know if Ed was up for it, physically or emotionally.

Emotionally, he was reacting like Ed again, but it wasn't the happy-with-himself-and-his-life Edward that had _finally_ proposed to Winry on a moonlit beach almost two years ago on their family vacation. This wasn't the man who had borrowed Marcus Kane's motorcycle to whisk her away for their anniversary, or even the one who had worked so hard to overcome the difficulties of dealing with what had been done to him in Xing. He had come out of that stronger. Now he seemed fragile. He was obviously afraid still to say something that would make her angry or make her change her mind. He was fidgety too.

The fidgeting carried into the things she noticed about his physical differences as well. In full daylight Ed looked sick; there was just no way to pretend otherwise. The short hair still startled her, but she could get used to that. He was paler than she ever remembered him being, like he didn't spend time outside anymore. He was still thinner than he ought to be, and his eyes were tired and a little sunken; clear indication that he wasn't getting proper sleep on top of not eating right. Ed never _could_ take care of himself.

As they paused at the top of a hill just to enjoy the scenery, Winry noticed that Ed wasn't just fidgeting. "Ed, you're shaking." His hand twitched occasionally and he looked… well it reminded her of Jean Havoc if he hadn't had a cigarette in a few hours.

Ed immediately looked embarrassed and averted his eyes. "I haven't had a drink in three days."

So Winry had been right, unfortunately. Still it was good to know Ed had accepted the reality of his situation. He didn't sound surprised that she had noticed either.

Ed started down the other side of the hill, striking off across the fields without sticking to the road. "You know," he chuckled softly after a minute, "I used to heckle Havoc from time to time. We all did. But I never thought about what he must have gone through while we were in enemy hands _outside_ of torture. I couldn't understand why he went back to it afterwards either, because I was so wrapped up in my own mess I never thought about how_ he_ was coping with everything." He paused and turned back to make sure she was still there and keeping up. Winry was right there of course. "_This_ is its own torture. I thought it couldn't be that hard. But here I am shaking like a leaf, sick as a dog, and dying for a drink I don't even _want!_"

"You've _made it_ three days," Winry replied encouragingly. That was something even if it was only a small step. She wanted him to realize that, and hopefully he would catch the support.

"Barely," Ed snorted self-depreciatingly. "It should have been longer."

"It's not easy." Winry slipped one arm into his comfortingly. It was good to be in his presence again without feeling like the world was crashing down around her. "You just admitted it. So don't beat yourself up too much over it, all right? You're strong. I know you can beat this."

"How do you know that?" He looked at her, but while he sounded skeptical there was no sarcasm.

"Because you hate to lose," Winry smirked up at him. "And you're too stubborn to be beaten by yourself if you don't want to be." That _want_ though seemed critical. It had been Ed doing this to himself – giving up on everything they had – that she couldn't take. Even knowing his psyche, she had been able to do almost nothing. The usual reasoning when he was in that kind of depressed, guilt-ridden state had been next to useless. Now he was down and he was hurting, but he was reacting the way she was used to.

Ed closed his arm around hers and pulled her in close, hugging her tightly against him. Winry was happy to oblige. "I hate myself like this," he admitted into her hair. "I don't like who I was during the war, either. And I'm not sure how I feel about who I was before anymore."

"You're a good person, Ed," Winry replied calmly. "I believe that with all my heart. You've helped so many people all your life. When it comes down to it you do things because you believe in them and see them through even when you discover that maybe you_ were _wrong. It doesn't matter what your original motive was; you do what you have to with the best intentions."

She tilted her head up so that their faces were barely inches apart. "I know you aren't proud of some of the things you've done, but no one ever is of all their actions, not even me. I don't hate you for having to kill people in the name of duty anymore than I hate anyone else, and if I can forgive Roy Mustang for following his orders, why wouldn't I forgive you for following the ones you brought on yourself?"

"I love you for being _you_ – Edward Elric – not because you're a decorated General, or a celebrated State Alchemist and a hero for the people in two worlds." She smiled up into those deep golden eyes she had loved so long, trying not to cry again. "There were times when just being that was enough for you. I remember them." When she had found him in Europe, and much longer ago, when he had been a child before his mother died. He had even seemed happy to just be _himself_ when he became a State Alchemist. But really, it was watching him when he was with their family, just _living_, that she knew he had been happy just as he was. "I love you, and our children love you. I know you can get past this too, just like everything else the world has ever thrown at you, and come out stronger for it."

Edward's only response was a kiss so warm and sweet Winry enjoyed being lost in it for quite some time.


	10. Reconstruction 2

**May 9****th****, 1953**

Edward spent another couple of days in Resembool. He was reluctant to leave Winry again, even knowing that she would be following on the train only a few days behind. He couldn't wait that long to return himself though or he was unlikely to have a_ job_ when he got home. He wasn't willing to assume he still would when he got back anyway. His call to Alphonse had confirmed that his brother and Gracia had guessed where he had gone, and that Breda was hopping mad for Ed running off without any notice what-so-ever! Al, bless him, had promised to cover and try and smooth the situation over a little while Ed got a much needed reprieve from the hell he had created for himself.

Time here was a healing experience, and watching Aldon and Cassie and their growing family helped Ed feel an inner peace he had thought was gone forever. Coran was thrilled to see him and wanted to play. Ed felt pathetic that he could barely keep up with the boy. The symptoms of withdrawal only got worse over the next few days, and on top of that he was easily winded and his heart would race erratically if he tried to do too much. So he took it easy and read Coran dozens of story books in the rocking chair in the living room. He cuddled Reichart as much as he could too.

It also gave Ed a chance to explore the changes to the house that Aldon and Cassie had made. He approved of all of them. He complimented the garden that Winry and Cassie had worked lately on putting in on the side for vegetables and herbs.

"Just wait until I finish my new project," Aldon chuckled the afternoon before Ed planned to leave the next morning. He and Ed were in Aldon's workshop. His son unrolled a large blueprint that was only about half finished. It was a playground, only it was much more interesting and intricate than the ones Ed saw in the parks in Central.

"You know every kid in the neighborhood will be over here right?" Ed teased.

"That's the idea," Aldon grinned. "Then we'll always know where the boys are."

Ed liked that. He still remembered the harrowing night he had pulled Sara from the river when she wasn't that much older than Coran was now. "It's going to take a lot of work." Actually, it looked like a lot of fun.

"Yeah I know," Aldon chuckled. "But it's something that will keep me busy. You know," he added with a knowing smirk, "It would also give you an excuse to come back before the boys get too big. We could work on it together. I won't be ready to start it for a while."

"I'd like that," Ed replied. The idea of working on a project with Aldon was appealing. He was touched that his son wanted _him_ to help, given he had always worked on projects with Winry growing up. Ed also enjoyed doing work the old fashioned way; with his hands. It was something he rarely got to do anymore. "It's a deal."

That evening Winry insisted on doing some basic maintenance on Ed's arm and leg. "What have you been doing to these?" she scolded gently as she tightened bolts, replaced a couple of wires and gave both limbs a thorough internal cleaning. 'It looks like they haven't been maintained since…" she dropped off then and Ed felt mildly guilty. He _hadn't _been maintaining them since she left. Winry had designed the auto-mail, and doing anything with it had reminded him of her. Mostly though, he had been too self-absorbed and depressed to care or even remember that they needed cleaning.

The last surprise that evening was from Cassie. She presented him with a large framed canvas, and Ed thought he was going to cry. It was the painting he had requested when she was still pregnant with Coran – complete and amazingly perfect. "It looks just like the house," Ed gasped. "Even all the flowers are in the right places."

"You gave me a very good description," Cassie beamed, obviously glad that he liked it. "And when I sat up on the hill, I could almost see it. There were also some photos around here I could use for reference," she admitted.

"It's beautiful," Winry peered over Ed's shoulder. "That's just how I remember it too."

That night, Edward curled up around Winry in bed. They didn't have sex. They hadn't the entire time he was here, but it no longer mattered. That wasn't what Ed had missed, and it wasn't even what he wanted most. He had Winry, and that was all that counted. As long as she was there, he could face the hard road ahead and the_ many_ things he was going to have to fix, starting with his family.

**May 15****th****, 1953**

It was a warm, gray, misting afternoon in Central when Edward got back into town. The train ride back had been quiet and uncomfortable. He had spent a lot of that time sick to his stomach and achy, and so he had slept a lot and done his best to avoid the dining car. He made it through the trip without a drink and considered it a success that he survived.

His first stop in Central wasn't the house. No one was there and he still only had his one bag. The painting would come up with the rest of the luggage when Winry came home. Ed headed straight for Gracia's. Ethan should be home from school and he desperately wanted to speak to his son. Assuming, of course, that Gracia would even let him into the house.

Ed was suspicious that Winry had called ahead when Gracia answered the door and actually _smiled_ when she saw him. "Welcome home, Edward."

"Hi. Thanks," Ed walked passed her into the house. "May I speak to Ethan?" He knew he didn't technically have to ask, but he remembered vaguely the call from Central High asking if Gracia had permission to get information from the office, and practically blowing them off with an answer that almost boiled down to _'yeah, sure, whatever.'_ He wasn't looking forward to seeing what Ethan's teachers thought of him the next time there was any kind of parent night.

"He's upstairs," Gracia nodded simply. "It's up to him if he lets you in or not."

Ed headed upstairs. He knew which room Gracia meant. It used to be Elicia's and had been a guest room for years. He knocked on the door and waited until he heard what sounded like an affirmative grunt on the other side of the door. Taking that for an okay, Ed entered.

Ethan was lying on the bed on his back, his knees bent and a book propped up against them. From the angle he was at, all Ed could see at first were his knees and the book, but then he shifted and sat up, and Ed got a good look at his son. He felt immediately guilty. It was easy to forget, because of his strong spirit, that Ethan was as susceptible to the stresses of difficulty as anyone else, and that he had begun life struggling more than many; born early and small. He looked better than Ed did, but that was a matter of magnitude. It was obvious that Ethan had been dealing with a lot of his own stress watching Ed and Winry tear away at each other day after day until Winry had left. The rumors and Ed's behavior couldn't have been easy on him either. Where as once Ethan would have bounded off the bed and greeted Ed with an enthusiastic hug, he now looked at Ed with an oddly neutral expression.

Ed swallowed. "Hi."

Ethan nodded. "Hello….sir."

"I deserve that," Ed sighed, hope fading. "I suppose a hug is out of the question."

"Is Mom with you?" Ethan asked.

"No," Ed admitted feeling like he was somehow letting down his son again. "But she said she's coming home."

That seemed to be what Ethan was waiting for, his rigid spine relaxed and he sighed. "So you're not gonna… you know?"

Get a divorce? Ed couldn't say the word out loud either. "Not if we can help it!" he shook his head and smiled, but Ethan did not look amused at his attempt to joke. "Your mom and I still love each other. I can't promise everything's going to be all right as soon as she gets home, but we're going to make things work." He moved to sit down on the bed as he spoke and Ethan did not object. It occurred to Ed as he looked at the boy on the bed that Ethan looked both somehow older than Ed remembered, and yet younger and more vulnerable at the same time. "I'm really sorry, Ethan. I never meant to hurt any of you. It's the last thing I wanted. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, Dad," Ethan nodded. He looked like he might cry, but Ed knew better. Ethan cried the way Ed cried; rarely and usually by himself. "I'm glad you're going to be okay."

"Eventually," Ed agreed with a weak smile. "It's not going to be easy. I've got a lot of problems to work through. We both do."

It was clear from Ethan's expression that he understood. It was strange to see Ethan looking so vulnerable. His son was no longer the light-hearted, idealist Ed remembered. His confidence seemed badly shaken. As Ed watched though, Ethan seemed to pull courage from somewhere and met his gaze evenly. "I noticed. This means you're going to stop getting plastered every night right?"

"That's the idea," Ed sighed. He couldn't guarantee he might not slip and fall, though he wished he could. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to make it, as much as it pained him to admit that much weakness. At least he had succeeded so far.

Ethan seemed to notice the slight hesitation. "I wish I knew how to help," he said finally. "Maybe there was something I could have said…something that could have stopped this…maybe?" He seemed to be searching for answers to questions months old.

Ed shook his head. "It's not your fault. You can talk all day and if the person isn't listening than it doesn't do any good. Alphonse knew what to say. So did Winry. Even the counselors would have if I'd been honest. I just… I don't listen very well sometimes."

"What finally got through?" Ethan asked.

"Hearing the word _jackass_ come out of Gracia's mouth," Ed smirked weakly. Okay, so that had been only one of them, but she had been the only one brave enough to come right out and_ force_ the issues that needed it, running roughshod over his weak arguments. Ed couldn't deny what she had said, and she hadn't been afraid to tell him straight the things he knew but didn't want to hear in a way he couldn't really ignore. "I owe her a lot of thanks."

"She's been great," Ethan nodded with a small smile.

"You know can come home whenever you want," Ed offered hopefully "We're still a family."

Ethan nodded. "Soon maybe. It's peaceful here." Then his smile widened some. "Though you'll probably need some help getting the house put back together before Mom gets home."

Ed cringed. The house was an absolute wreck. "You've seen it?" he asked, feeling something leaden in the pit of his stomach.

"Repeatedly," Ethan admitted, his expression going serious again. "I came over a few times to get things. Not that you'd remember. You were usually passed out by then."

"I owe you an apology possibly more than almost anyone else," Ed sighed, making himself look into Ethan's still slightly distant gaze. "I know in your place I'd have kicked my old man's ass for saying any of those things to my mother." Hell he'd tried to beat him bloody on sight anyway!

"I wanted to," Ethan admitted, looking embarrassed. "But I… I was afraid of what would happen if it turned into a real fight." Ed probably would have handed the kid his teeth easily enough if he was as enraged as he had gotten at times. He felt ashamed as Ethan went on. "It was easier to just put up with all the slander and the taunting. Do you know that half of the school believes the rumors that you used to beat Mom regularly?"

"Which half?" Ed wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

"The stupid half," Ethan finally cracked a smile as he shifted and sat next to Ed with his legs off the bed. "You may be an ass sometimes, but you're not that kind of guy."

"Gee, thanks," Ed couldn't help but smile though. "Maybe I should let you be the one to talk to Breda for me tomorrow."

Ethan winced. "I think I'd rather stand back and watch the fireworks."

"Can you forgive me?" Ed finally asked. He thought so, but he wanted to be certain.

Ethan eyed him for a moment. Then the hard-ass teen act vanished as he leaned in and hugged Ed tightly. "Just don't forget about the dog again, okay?"

Ed returned the hug with a feeling of immense relief. "Yeah, I think I can promise you that much."

* * *

When Ed went back downstairs, Gracia was in the living room watering her plants. Ed had something that needed saying, and he wasn't going to put it off any longer. "Gracia, I want to say thank you and…I'm sorry. You were right. I couldn't ignore the truth when you got up in my face about it."

"Sometimes it's not what you say, but how you say it," Gracia smiled back understandingly, "And _who _says it. Remember, I was dating Maes when Ishbal happened. When it was over, a lot of his friends had problems too, and it tore him up to see it. You wouldn't be the first person I've shocked sense into."

Ed was surprised when she actually winked at him. He couldn't help but smile a little. "You're a real classy lady, Gracia."

"You don't have to leave you know," she said, apparently aware that he was about to move for the door.

"Yeah, I do," Ed shook his head, though his objection was mild. "I want to talk to Al and Elicia tonight. I've been terrible to them, and my conscience won't let me sleep tonight otherwise."

"Well all right, if your conscience insists," Gracia chuckled softly. "But we'll see you tomorrow. That's not a request."

Ed smiled weakly and offered her a jaunty salute. "Yes ma'am."

It had started out a humbling afternoon, and Ed was sure it was going to just get more so. His only phone conversation with Al, despite his brother's reassurances, had been brief and a little awkward. He was almost expecting to have to beg Al – or more likely Elicia – to let him talk to them.

He needn't have worried. Al opened the door and smiled. "Brother!" Moments later Ed was the recipient of a very large, squashing hug. "Come on in," Al offered when he set Ed back on the pavement. "Are you all right, Ed?" he asked as they went inside and Ed sat down on the couch. Al put on tea. "You look pale."

"Withdrawal will do that." That's all Ed really felt like saying on the subject. He hoped Al wouldn't push it. That was the least of his problems. He hadn't had a drink since before arriving in Resembool, but stopping had proven much more difficult than last time. It was no longer a matter of just_ choosing._ He wasn't sleeping well, he shook sometimes, and he never knew when a wave of nausea would hit him. All of these were symptoms he had been warned to expect, and he was just glad they weren't more severe. If he was any more irritable or depressed than usual, Ed couldn't really tell. He had been irritable and depressed for _months. _

Fortunately, Al seemed to get all the information he needed from that statement. "How's Winry?" It was a loaded question Ed knew. He was sure Winry had probably called Elicia as soon as he left Resembool.

"A lot better," Ed was glad he could smile. "We talked a lot and…she's coming home."

Al visibly relaxed, a smile spreading over his face. "Thank goodness. I've been really worried." Maybe she hadn't called after all? Ed wondered if he was just being paranoid. That was dumb.

"About Winry?" he asked.

"About both of you," Al gave him a mock-glare. "You had me scared, Ed."

"Scared?" Ed had gotten _worried_ and _irritated _from people. "What did you think I was going to do, Al?" Alphonse hadn't really thought he'd do something _stupid_ did he? Well, the fact that he had didn't count. No one knew about that.

"More like what you'd already done," Al sobered. "Have you looked in a mirror, Ed? I mean _looked_…at your eyes. When you weren't scaring the students, you looked like you were already dead inside."

That was a harsh and rather terrifying statement. "Were. I don't now?"

Al shook his head. "Not anymore. You look like death warmed over maybe," he smirked. "But that look is gone."

"I'll take it that it's an improvement," Ed replied, swallowing his pride one more time. "I'm sorry, Al. After everything we've been through together, especially the war, I've put you through hell, haven't I? I never should have let you—"

"Stop right there," Al held up a hand and shook his head. "I appreciate that you feel bad, Ed, and you've been treating everyone like crap lately. But I won't let you take the blame for my insisting on going with you to Aerugo. It was my decision, and I'll live with the consequences."

"I don't deserve a brother like you, Al," Ed sighed, though he was imminently grateful for him.

"I know," Al smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," Ed shrugged. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately." It was kind of embarrassing to admit.

"Well you'll have to find it," Elicia said briskly as she came into the room, "Because you're staying for dinner. You look thin as a rail, and Winry will kill us all if she comes home and finds that you died of starvation after coming to your senses."

"Yes ma'am," Ed smiled weakly. He just hoped it wasn't anything too heavy or difficult to digest. "What are we having?"

"Herbed chicken and roasted vegetables," Elicia replied.

"Has Winry called?" Ed dared to ask as he and Al both stood and went to sit at the table. Upstairs, Ed heard a door close and Alyse's feet on the carpeted stairs as she came down.

"Maybe," Elicia replied with a look that said if she had, it was girl talk.

Al shrugged. "Don't be worried, Ed. Elicia won't tell _me_ what Winry said either."

Alyse came downstairs, and paused when she saw them. "Hello, Uncle Edward." She didn't seem too sure of what to make of his appearance in their house.

"Hello, Alyse," Ed smiled. It was all he could do. Alyse and Ethan were very close, and he suspected his niece had been affected by his stupidity as well just by being related.

After another moment she smiled tentatively and joined them at the table. Dinner was quiet, but for once it wasn't strained. Ed talked a little bit about going down and talking to Winry; Aldon and Cassie and what they had done with the Resembool house; and plans for the next few days. "I need to get the house back in order," he admitted, though he did not say just how trashed he had left it. A nod from Alphonse and the look in his brother's eyes told Ed that Al had _seen_ the mess. "And I need to report in to work tomorrow before Breda has my hide."

"Which he might anyway," Al admitted with a sigh. "He's still not happy, Ed."

"I didn't figure he was." He would face that problem tomorrow though after a full night's sleep. Ed did his best to eat everything on his plate. Fortunately Elicia had not served him huge portions and when he was done he found his stomach reasonably settled despite its unease of late. "Thanks for dinner, Elicia," he said honestly as he got ready to go a little later.

"You'd better be here every night till Winry gets back," she said firmly, then hugged him. "We'll have Gracia and Ethan over too."

Ed chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

**May 16****th****, 1953**

Edward slept downstairs in Ethan's room at the house that night. He couldn't make himself go upstairs, and he didn't sleep until he had locked the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. He figured that would be enough to keep him from_ forgetting_. Then he slept deeply all night, with very few dreams that he remembered at all the next morning, and woke feeling better than he had in a while. He missed Winry, but he kept reminding himself that she would be back only a couple of weeks behind him and that there was plenty to do to keep him busy until then.

The first was to face Breda's wrath at work. Ed decided it would be best to dress up for his dressing down and pulled on his uniform. He had gotten almost too used to it in the past couple of years. Now it made him feel uneasy, but that wasn't the feel of it. Ed cleaned up and – wishing he looked a little less like walking death – drove over to Headquarters.

There was a note on his desk from Breda's office already – dated that morning – telling him to come upstairs for a meeting. Ed made no attempts to avoid the inevitable. He just went upstairs. There were some furtive glances from the staff as he went through the room. A couple of them were surprised to see him. Feury and Falman looked relieved. Franz Heimler's face was carefully schooled into a lack of emotion. No one actually spoke to him.

Ed ignored them and closed the door, turned, and came to stand at attention on front of Breda's desk. "General Edward Elric reporting for duty, Sir," he said with some resignation. "I'm here and ready for whatever reprimand you see fitting. I'm sorry I forgot to file for leave."

Breda's expression was stony. "You really think I'm this mad at one of our best Generals for forgetting to file leave papers before completely vanishing for two weeks while we are still technically at war?"

Wasn't that why he was in trouble? Ed nodded. "Yes, actually. So what did you have in mind then? Stripping me of my rank? Court-martial? I'll take whatever you want to hit me with without complaint, Breda. I did what I had to."

Again Breda had no reaction to Ed's words. His expression, if anything, simply darkened as his keen eyes looked into Ed's face. "Edward, how many times over the years have you lied during psych evaluations?"

What? This really wasn't where Ed had expected this conversation to go. "Define lied."

Breda snorted. "Falsified or_ left out _critical information that might have led to a different outcome... like the fact you were having marital problems."

"They never asked how Winry and I were doing." Ed didn't really want to get into this, not after everything else.

"Dodging the question falls into the same category," Breda frowned. "You don't have to get defensive with me, Ed. But the only reason I didn't_ make_ you take extended leave after you got back was because it looked like you were doing okay even with the usual post-war stress." Ed had been entirely honest this go-around about the nightmares and his regrets about the war and the things he had been required to do. It was all in the reports.

"Then you don't need to ask why I didn't want to be at home all day," Ed pointed out. "Is that what I'm getting then, forced leave?"

"Would it do any good? I'm not sure leaving you by yourself is any better at this point. No," Breda shook his head. "That might end up being part of it. The Assembly wants me to make an example of you. They've been on me for a while about how it looks for one of our highest profile officers to be one of the biggest gossip topics in Central." Breda rolled his eyes. "Fortunately for you and me, they order me around about as much as I order them." This meant, of course, not at all. "What I _am_ going to do is make you submit to a full physical and psychiatric evaluation again and whatever measures beyond that the counselor suggests. And this time you _will_ be entirely forthcoming or I'll have no choice but to have you medically discharged." He was dead serious.

"And if they decide I'm a wreck anyway?" They would, Ed really had no doubt of that.

"Then we'll talk." Breda sighed, watching him for a long minute. "So… how's Winry?"

"Coming home," Ed smiled weakly, "And a mile ahead of you as far as setting conditions."

"I'm glad to hear it…on both counts," Breda nodded back. "You look like shit, Ed."

"I feel worse," Ed smirked. He had looked in the mirror that morning. Even in uniform with his hair combed he looked pretty pathetic. "No, I'll do what you want without arguing. I promised Winry too."

"Then I'll take that as a good enough assurance of your renewed good behavior," Breda said, "At least for now."

"Yes, Sir," Ed nodded. He really wasn't going to argue. The last thing he wanted was to get ousted over this. "So what does that mean in the short term?"

"It means I expect you to get your affairs in order so I don't have to do something I'll regret," Breda replied. "Consider yourself on_ probationary_ leave until we get the results back from your evaluations."

Ed nodded. "Yes, Sir. Thanks," he added. Probationary meant he wouldn't be teaching, but it didn't technically ban him from Headquarters. If he needed to get out of the empty house he could hide out in his office.

"Don't thank me," Breda shook his head. "If I'd had any sense I'd have had you in here sooner."

"What would you have done?" Ed asked.

The pained look on Breda's face surprised him. "That's been the problem all along, Ed. I don't know. I just didn't want to do anything that might make the situation _worse_."

* * *

On his way back out of the office, Ed motioned to Franz. "Lieutenant Colonel, could I speak to you in private?"

Franz gave him a completely professional nod. "Yes, General." He stood up and followed Ed out into the hallway. No one was there, so Ed figured it was good enough. He felt embarrassed but this was necessary.

"I was wondering if you could be oh, a few minutes late getting home this evening?" Ed got straight to the point. "Please," he added humbly. "I need to talk to Sara, to apologize, but I think it's better done somewhere other than here."

Franz nodded and actually smiled. "I think that's a good idea. I have plenty to do here. Getting a little extra work done this evening certainly won't hurt anything."

"Thank you." Ed smiled and he hoped that it was clear that his thanks were for more than that. Franz was the one who took care of Sara now and made sure she felt loved and appreciated. By all rights Franz should probably hate him, but Ed remembered a story in a letter once that Sara had shown him, and knew Franz understood.

"You're welcome," Franz replied before heading back into the office.

At that point there was little to do until evening. Ed stopped by his office long enough to throw out the dangerous contents of one desk drawer, then went back to the house and found _'new homes_' for most of the quality bottles in the liquor cabinet. Anything that didn't get dropped at a friend's house was summarily dumped down the drain.

Ed changed out of uniform as soon as he got home. There was no point in wearing it around town after all. He puttered around the house for the rest of the afternoon. He threw away the spoiled food in the refrigerator and took out as much trash as he could fit in the cans. A trip to the dump could be managed later. He wasn't in the mood to clean much else, so he took a walk around the neighborhood and then stopped off at one of the little restaurants in town for a light lunch. Just a sandwich and a soda, but it was something. He felt pretty wiped by the time he got home, so he lay down for a _short_ nap that turned into three hours.

Finally it was time. Ed screwed up his courage and headed over to Sara's apartment.

When Sara opened the door she frowned darkly. "So are you here to order me around my own apartment? Or are you here to exterminate vermin? If so, leaving should fix the problem."

"Ouch. All right, I deserved that." He was _not_ going to lose his temper. "May I come in? We need to talk."

Sara's expression did not change. "Oh _now_ we need to talk? Where was this a few months ago; or even weeks?"

"Look I know I've been a bastard," Ed scowled, "But let's at least be reasonable okay?"

"If you remember what that means." Sara stepped out of the way and let him in though.

Ed had known this would be the most difficult apology outside of Winry. Sara was as stubborn as he was, and she had been forced to deal with him most. Aldon and Winry had warned him she was truly angry and upset, especially given how close they had been until recently. He came in as she closed the door behind him but he didn't try and sit down.

He sighed. A little dose of humility was good for the soul. He just had to keep telling himself that. Maybe someday he'd believe it. "Look, if you don't want me to stay, I'll make this brief. I just came over to apologize. I'm sorry for what I've done to you, what I've done to our family. I can't take it back. I can't erase the pain I've caused you or ask you to pretend it never happened. All I'm asking for is forgiveness, someday, and another chance, but it's your decision. You're my daughter, and no matter what you decide I'll still love you." It wasn't pretty or flowery; it was just an awkward apology. He stood there waiting to be ejected from the apartment.

"Nice speech." He wasn't sure what to read in her expression. Like most military officers, Sara excelled at hiding her emotions, even from him.

Ed shrugged "Look, if it makes you feel any better you can laugh at me while you watch me suffer for the next few weeks but please, let's keep things civil at least."

"Why should I?" It wasn't a petulant question, but Sara wasn't making this easy on him.

"Because Winry's suffered enough," Ed replied, "and Ethan. Aldon too," he added, though he was even more grateful that his middle son had not inherited_ his _emotional framework. Aldon had been the most rational and understanding of the three throughout the entire ordeal. "I don't know if I deserve your forgiveness or not. Maybe that's my_ loss_ in all this. It would be a fair price in equivalency."

Sara snorted. "How do you figure that?"

"Because I'd rather have died than lose you," Ed met her eyes evenly, "Or lost another limb. Anything but what I've already lost through my own stupidity."

"So that's it then. Mom agrees to come home and you do some amazing one-eighty." Sara's expression was pained. "We've been in this position before, Dad. Maybe not exactly the same, but you used to listen to me, to respect my opinions. I was just a girl then, but you gave my words more weight than you do now. You flat out_ ignored_ me. You _degraded_ me, and you made it personal _and_ professional."

"I know. Like I said, I'm not really expecting forgiveness," Ed replied, feeling resignation settle in his stomach. "You were right. Hell, _everyone_ was right except me." He sighed and stepped towards the door. "I should go."

"Why?"

"Ethan and I are getting the house straightened up before your Mom comes home," he explained, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "It's a little neglected. I expect it will take a few days. If you feel like coming by, we'd love to have you." He opened the door and stepped out. Sara didn't say anything as he closed the door behind him.

Ed stood on the landing for a moment, refusing to let the heartache he felt overwhelm him, but knowing he had done what he could to start mending things. This was the hard part; trying to put together something when it had been torn to pieces. It was something Ed excelled at with alchemy: determine the composition, destruction, and reconstruction. It was simple if it was just a transmutation. Reconstructing the tattered remains of a life was much more difficult.

**May 17****th****, 1953**

Ethan took off school on Wednesday and he and Edward hit the house full force. They made a couple of trips to the dump to get rid of the mess when even the trash collectors wouldn't take all of because it overflowed the trash cans. Then they got down to work on the serious stuff. A little judicious use of alchemy on Ethan's part fixed the broken mirror and the tear in the couch. It also turned out to be necessary to get several stains out of the couch, the throw rug, and the wood of the floors.

They scrubbed dishes and counters and washed and folded laundry. The floors got a long overdue mopping and Ethan climbed up and dusted the book shelves. It took most of the day to do just the main part of the downstairs. Ethan refused to do the downstairs bathroom, declaring it _disgusting_ and letting Ed handle it.

In the mid-afternoon there was a knock on the door, and Ethan let Sara in. She looked around the house as if she was expecting a disaster area.

"It was worse this morning," Ed said with a wry smile. "I'm glad you came."

"Franz told me if I didn't I'd regret it later," Sara admitted with a shrug then she finally smiled for the first time Ed had seen – aimed at him – in a while. "He was right."

"I knew I liked that boy," Ed chuckled.

"So, what can I do?" Sara asked

"Well, there's a whole garden of weeds out back," Ed replied. "And Winry wants to put in an herb garden in that back corner, so we should really make sure everything's good to go out back too."

"Herb garden, huh," Sara glanced out the back windows.

"New hobby," Ed gave by way of explanation. If Winry wanted to share the details of her new life change with Sara, she could do it herself. That was personal.

"I'll get the gardening gloves." Sara didn't ask any more questions but headed into the kitchen. Winry kept the gloves and basic gardening tools in a bottom cabinet near the back door.

Ed finished folding kitchen towels and went to put them away in a drawer. When he entered the kitchen, Sara had the upper cabinet open and was looking inside. "Checking up on me?" Ed asked. Not that he really needed to since the answer was obvious.

"Can you blame me?" Sara asked, looking sheepish as she closed the cabinet.

No, he couldn't. "You won't find anything. I got rid of it; every drop."

"Where did it go?"

"I gave the good stuff away, dumped the rest," Ed shrugged. "I couldn't stand having it in the house anymore. It was too easy."

Instead of a sarcastic remark or an _I told you so_ – both of which Ed would have expected and would have been his daughter's right – Sara looked crestfallen. "I hoped it hadn't gotten that bad."

"Well it has." Ed sighed. Then he smirked. "I've had this conversation so many times lately it might just been easier to call a press conference."

"You'd put yourself up for public embarrassment like that?" Sara looked startled.

"Do you think there's anybody at Central Headquarters who doesn't know? I've never exactly been subtle." The news media had run gloriously all over his life with the news that Winry had left. The rumors about him made the reality seem tame.

"No, you haven't. You never really had to say anything. It's usually pretty obvious when there's something wrong," Sara admitted. She bent down and pulled out the gardening gloves and a trowel. When she stood up again, there were tears in her eyes. "You know I still love you right, Dad?"

"Yeah," Ed replied softly, his throat tightening a little with emotion too. "I know."


	11. Reconstruction 3

**May 27th, 1953  
**

Edward stood on the platform of the Central train station trying to ignore the mildly paranoid feeling that nagged at him. What if Winry changed her mind? What if she wasn't really on the train? What if he was really doomed to spend the rest of his days alone? He shoved the voices away. The doubts and concerns were, he knew, mostly another residual symptom of his own stupidity.

He kept checking his watch. The train wasn't late. In fact it was listed as running perfectly on time. Still, he fidgeted, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the light jacket he wore.

Despite Ed's repeated insistence that they should come to, Sara and Ethan were at the house, insisting in return that it should be just Ed to meet Winry at the station with the car. They would see their mother when they got back to the house, but they wanted their parents to have some time to talk and reunite first, without the audience.

Not that Ed saw how a platform full of strangers did not count as an audience. Nor did he care the moment the train pulled into the station. Ed stood in the press of people waiting to greet passengers or to board the train and tried to keep calm. One moment he could barely see through the crowds, and then the next a vision of beauty stepped down from a nearby car and smiled in his direction.

The crowd might as well have dematerialized. Ed was not aware of crossing the distance, but the next thing he knew he had Winry gathered tightly in his arms and he was kissing her with all the longing that had been building since their last meeting. It was made sweeter by how willingly she returned his attentions.

"Welcome home," Ed whispered in her ear when their lips parted.

Winry held on to him a moment longer. "It's good to _be_ home."

Ed wished they could have stood like that forever, but they moved out of the push of people, fetched all of the luggage, and then got help from a couple of porters to get it all out to the car.

"You look better," Winry commented gently as Ed drove away from the station. "How do you feel?"

"Better now that you're home," Ed admitted, and he wasn't just saying that. He felt steadier with her nearby. "Maybe it's the reassuring threat of violence if I don't keep control."

Winry chuckled. "If that was all it took you would never do these things."

"I know," Ed smiled graciously. "The one thing I didn't get a chance to tell you on the phone before you left Resembool was that my evaluation that Breda's insisting on is on Monday." At least it hadn't been sooner. As it was Ed was dreading having to face Doc Gray and Doctor Alders, the psychologist he had worked with before.

"It will be okay, Ed," Winry slid her hand across the front seat, resting it on his leg. "No matter what happens, we'll get through this."

Sweeter words may never have been spoken. Ed took his auto-mail hand off the wheel and placed it over Winry's. "Now I can believe it."

**June 1****st****, 1953**

Edward didn't think even his annual mandatory physical had ever been as detailed as the rigors they put him through on Monday morning. Doctor Gray ran him through the full barrage of tests. They even took blood samples. Ed cringed at the needles but didn't make a single word of protest. He just closed his eyes and looked away.

Gray looked him over from what Ed swore was every last follicle of hair on his head down to his feet and _everything_ in between. She was kind enough to allow a male doctor in to do the particularly sensitive areas. Ed never had gotten used to the idea of having any female but Winry look at _some_ parts of his body! Not while he was conscious anyway.

They talked about his withdrawal symptoms and his sleeping and eating habits – now and for the past several months. Gray looked severely displeased several times as she took notes and chastised him for all the things Ed had been fully aware were stupid at the time he had chosen to do them anyway.

Ed had figured that the physical would be the easy part and it was the psych evaluation he would need to be concerned with. At least, until Doctor Gray's expression turned stony. "There's a note here in your file that I didn't make," she commented flatly. "Apparently you came in over a month ago and you were in the emergency room. The note here says you thought you accidentally overdosed on a painkiller but seemed otherwise unharmed." Her steely gaze made it clear that she was skeptical, and actually angry. "It also mentions that you were advised to see me for follow up as soon as possible."

_Oh, hell_. Ed had hoped this would never come up. "I'm here now," he replied weakly.

"_Was_ it accidental, Edward?"

"What? No….I mean yes!" Ed stammered, panic rising when he realized what she was inferring. "_Yes_ it was an accident!" His heart began to beat faster and he forced himself to slow down, to breathe deeply. "Come on, Doc, you don't really think I'd do that on purpose?"

"What did you take it for and what _was_ it, Edward?"

This was it. Breda would know and Ed would be out of the military so fast he would feel the air of the door slamming behind him. Ed swallowed, his mouth had gone dry. Finally, haltingly, he explained. Doc Gray's face continued to grow more and more austere, until he couldn't imagine how that was possible anymore. When Ed got to the part about passing out on the floor of the lab after eating the charcoal, he thought she might explode with anger. But professional conduct kept her from it.

"I can't believe you had the gall to tell _any_ doctor that was just an _accidental overdose_," she spluttered slightly when he was finished. "I'm going to insist that we do an echocardiogram."

Ed had heard the term before, but he really had no idea what it had to do with the current discussion other than that it had something to do with the heart. "What for?"

She looked honestly pained. "Because your heartbeat is irregular, Edward, and after what you just described I think I need to see just how much damage you've done yourself."

Any objections he had died before they even hit his tongue. "What do you mean damage?"

The doctor shook her head. "I mean what you described sounds like more than just an overdose, Edward, however bad. It's not uncommon for an overdose that egregious to cause a patient to go into cardiac arrest."

Ed couldn't think of a response to that, he was too stunned. He went meekly when they showed him where the room was for the scans, and waited silently back in the examination room for the results. The words just kept echoing in his mind, and mixing with others from years back. Cardiac arrest; a heart attack? That was what had killed Havoc; the possibility that had terrified Breda into buckling down and losing weight. He had known he might be dying that night, but he hadn't realized just how right he had been.

Doctor Gray did not look any more pleased when she came in later with the results. "You may be one of the luckiest men in history," she commented as she sat down in her chair across from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "An overdose of that magnitude and this much scarred tissue on top of the amount of drinking you've admitted to and you're still here to sit here and tell me the story."

Ed wasn't sure he wanted to see the images but he made himself look. This was his punishment for doing what he shouldn't again. This was equivalency, plain and simple. "So what does this mean?"

Gray sighed and gave him at least a mildly sympathetic look. "It means that there's nothing I can do. There's no cure for this kind of damage, and the irregular heartbeat you've mentioned, especially the racing, are a result of this. The best you can do is let your heart heal up as much as it can and do your best to avoid another one."

"Another one?" Ed looked up at her sharply.

"It's always more likely after one," Gray nodded. "And with this much damage, I'm still stunned you haven't in the past month. Though it's possible that you've had a smaller one or more since then. They aren't always that noticeable."

Ed thought he might start hyperventilating. It hadn't occurred to him that this might happen more than once!

"Calm down." She continued, speaking calmly. How could she be so mellow about this? "I said it's _possible. _You're an otherwise healthy middle-aged man. As long as you listen to your body and take care of yourself you should be all right."

"What do I do?" Ed asked desperately. He didn't care how pathetic it might sound.

"Well, for starters, _stay_ on the bandwagon," Gray replied with a small snort. "You're in relatively good shape despite the last few months and you already know how to eat properly when you choose to. Exercise is good for building the strength of your heart up again. But start off lightly and don't push too hard. When your heartbeats gets irregular and speeds up too fast like that, or you begin getting light-headed, it means _stop._ Got it?"

"Yes, Doctor," Ed replied feeling meek and humbled. "Anything else?"

There was several more minutes of instructions, suggestions, and scolding. Then she pulled out a small bottle and handed it over. "In case of emergencies," she said simply.

Ed took the bottle and frowned. There was a single pill inside. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's not an issue of trust, Edward. There's not enough there to be dangerous, only helpful if you need it. It may save your life."

Ed clutched the bottle for a moment then stuffed it in his pocket next to his watch. He wanted to refuse, to say it wasn't necessary, but he didn't dare. "Thanks."

* * *

Ed did not get nearly as much personal feedback from Doctor Alders, who took a lot of notes, asked a lot of questions, and frowned perpetually almost from the moment Ed started explaining the things he had _left out _of his visits after the war, and what had happened since he just stopped coming to the man's office.

"So at no point did you think it relevant to mention that you were having relationship issues as something possibly affecting your mental state?" Alders shook his head at one point. When Ed repeated the story about the _kashu _he was not reassured when Alders scribbled furiously through most of it. Alders even made him repeat the _dream_ in some detail, and Ed was permanently embarrassed by the end of it. He then endured a barrage of questions about if he had ever contemplated suicide and neglected to mention _that_ to Alders, and the man picked into every moment of the process. What had Ed been feeling and thinking when he decided to try that particular course of action. What had been his reasons?

"Look, when I told Gray it was accidental I meant it!" Ed finally burst out in exasperation, nearly in tears. "I never wanted to die and I don't now."

"You lied to a doctor and omitted _critical_ information to several," Alders scowled. "Your line of behavior doesn't indicate any attempt at moving on with your life or improving your mental state. It does reflect deeper issues: severe depression and emotional instability on top of the post-traumatic stress problems." He sighed. "The alcoholism is just icing on the cake. I don't think there's anything else I can do with you, Ed. You obviously don't feel comfortable talking to me about your deepest concerns, and that means that this patient-doctor relationship doesn't work."

"Wait, so what does that mean?" Ed was lost. The man was giving up on him?

"It means that I'm going to recommend you to a different specialist," Alders replied, "Someone with more experience in dealing with difficult or uncooperative cases."

Ed didn't like the sound of that, but what was he going to do, argue? He was on the losing end of a desperate situation, and he had promised Winry he would do whatever it took. He was learning quickly that there_ was_ no quick fix to this. "So, when do I start?"

* * *

The meeting with Breda did not improve Ed's day. In many ways, it was the lowest point. "You know I _should_ revoke your State Alchemist's license for this," the President of the Military commented as he looked at the reports. "At the minimum; creating a highly dangerous medicinal substance like that _ought_ to be illegal here, given what you did with it," he grumbled. "But unfortunately it's only technically qualified as stupid."

"Is that the legal term, Sir?"

"Don't even joke, _General_," Breda scowled humorlessly. "I know you've pulled some crazy stunts in the past, Ed, but _this?_ Are you insane?"

"What does Alders say?" Ed replied, though the quip had no bite to it. He was already resigned to the fact that whatever decision Breda made, it would not involve Ed returning to duty anytime soon.

"Fortunately for you, nothing about insanity," Breda replied. "It is also his professional opinion that you aren't suicidal or an immediate danger to anyone else."

"Well I should hope not!" Ed exclaimed. He was relieved to hear it though. If Alders didn't think he was nuts or likely to try something stupid again, there was still hope.

"Though you're in for a time of it," Breda smirked, a little meanly. "This guy he's got recommended is a hard ball. He's good though."

"How do you know?" Ed asked.

Breda chuckled. "Who do you think handles Roy?"

"I'm worse off than I thought," Ed joked weakly. "Look, just tell me straight up, what's the damage? I've been poked and prodded and run roughshod over all day. I'd really just like to get the sentencing over with."

Breda nodded and set down the report in his hands. "Very well then. As per the recommendations of both doctors I am putting you on protracted leave for an indefinite period of time."

Indefinite. Depending on Ed, that might well mean permanent. He sighed audibly. "Understood. What are the criteria for my return to duty?"

"A clean bill of health and a positive recommendation," Breda shrugged. He made it sound so simple, but there was sadness in his eyes. "I don't want to see you keel over on the job or fall apart again, Ed. By rights I _should_ at the least have you medically discharged or press for retirement, but I know how well that kind of thing usually works with you."

"Damned straight." At least Breda realized that.

"I just don't have it in me to make you get out," Breda admitted.

Ed wished it had occurred to him earlier just how many people he had hurt aside from himself. He forgot so easily that there were people who cared about him even if they didn't say it regularly. "But you think I should."

"I'm beginning to think Career State Alchemist is synonymous with _nut job_," Breda retorted, rubbing his eyes with one hand as if he had a headache. "I don't know how you guys last as long as you do."

"Because we had to be a little crazy to take the job in the first place," Ed smirked. It wasn't as funny as it used to be though. The smile faded. "I guess I won't be seeing you for a while."

"Not here," Breda nodded firmly. "But don't think this excuses you from turning down any dinner invitations. Nancy's been talking non-stop about having you both over sometime soon."

"Wouldn't want to disappoint her," Ed agreed. He was relieved and torn all at once. Perhaps this was the most difficult conversation because it was the most personal. He knew that Breda _should_ be dressing him down more harshly, and likely stripping him of rank and his watch if he didn't at least argue more strongly that Ed needed to get out. The fact that he wasn't simply accented the harshness of what he _should have been _getting in the lack there of. The most notable absence was that there was no guarantee in here that Ed would ever be allowed to resume his duties. Right now, the chances didn't look good at all.

Breda brought his hand up and saluted. "I expect to see improvement, General."

Ed saluted smartly. "I'll do my best not to disappoint, Sir." It was less painful to hide behind military ritual.

He was grateful to be allowed to leave Headquarters in uniform which his watch in his pocket. Ed's spirits could not have gotten much lower. Now for the truly difficult part of all this; he was going to have to admit it all to Winry and the rest of the family.

* * *

When he got home, Al's car was in the driveway. Edward felt a lead weight settle in his stomach as he parked the car and walked up to the door. Not that he minded his brother and his family coming over for dinner, but he wasn't sure he was ready to admit his most recent transgression to anyone other than Winry and Ethan.

The crowd inside was even bigger than he thought it would be. Yes, Al, Elicia and Alyse were there, but as Ed took off his uniform jacket and came into the living room he heard Gracia in the kitchen, and Sara and Franz were sitting on the couch.

"Welcome home," Winry walked up and hugged him before Ed could react. Then she caught his expression and her smile faded a little. "I thought you might not mind company tonight."

Ed mentally shook himself and put a smile on his face. "No, it's all right," he looked at her. "You just caught me off guard."

"So how did it go, Dad?" Ethan asked, sitting up eagerly, his head poking over the back of the easy chair.

Suddenly every eye was on him. Ed swallowed. So much for doing this quietly. "It could have gone worse," he shrugged. There was no point in pretending that he was happy about it. "I'm on medical leave until they decide _if_ I'm fit to go back."

"That's good then," Gracia smiled encouragingly. "I take it that means Heymans didn't have you discharged."

Ed shook his head. "No. He said he should, but he couldn't make himself do it."

"So it'll be okay," Al smiled, nodding.

They were all looking relieved, and Ed knew why. They all saw it as a positive sign that Ed was still technically in. Of course, they didn't know the details. "Not really," he sighed. He might as well get it over with. "There's a good chance I'll end up having to retire anyway."

He watched their expressions change to a range that went anywhere from concern to confusion. "Why?" Winry asked.

"I did something stupid a couple of months ago."

"Just one thing?" Sara quipped.

Gracia shushed her with a short sharp look.

"I tried something with alchemy that I shouldn't have…" Ed had been wrong. Apologizing to Winry wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done. Admitting _again_ that he had failed and risking her anger and disappointment again was. He averted his eyes, looking down at the floor, anything to avoid looking into the faces of the people he had failed the most. "...and I got it wrong, and it nearly killed me."

"Ed, what did you do?" Winry sounded stricken.

Ed looked up, but it was to look at Al. "Alphonse…would you go upstairs please? If you break into my lab you'll find what I mean."

Al frowned. "How will I know what it is, Ed?"

"Believe me, you'll know."

Ed walked over to the windows and stared out into the falling twilight as he waited. No one spoke. He heard alchemy upstairs and the door opening, footsteps, then silence for what seemed like an eternity. Then he heard Al's feet on the stairs again. "How much of this did you _take_?" It was a soft question, with a tone that held a heavy note of disbelief and horror. It was enough for Ed to know his brother had seen his notes – left untouched on the desk – and the materials. Alphonse knew what it was. Ethan would too if he thought about it.

"Too much," Ed replied simply, choking up. "Like I said, I was stupid all right? I didn't do it on purpose, but I shouldn't have ever made it at all."

"But what _is _it?" Winry asked, obviously not entirely understanding. Her voice sounded broken and worried. Ed couldn't bear to turn around.

"It's a Xing drug." Unsurprisingly, it was Ethan who spoke up, sounding as stunned as Alphonse that Ed would have ever even contemplated such a thing. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," Ed's words came out sharply bitter. "Not clearly. I was looking for _something _that would just let me get a break from all the pain, the nightmares…the loneliness; something that might be gentler than drinking myself_ stupid_."

"And _this_ seemed like a good alternative?" Sara snorted.

"It's used in small doses in Xing," Ethan explained, saving Ed for the moment. He silently thanked his son. "Usually for surgeries, but other times as well. It'll knock a patient unconscious and kills all the pain, but it's supposed to relax them and stimulates good dreams."

"In small doses," Sara repeated the words.

"I made a mistake in the dosage," Ed confirmed for them though he guessed it was probably unnecessary. "Either my notes are wrong or I misread them – probably the latter – and I ingested twice as much as I should have." There was a small collective gasp that clearly came from Winry, Elicia, and Gracia. Ed cringed and forced himself to finish the tale. "Great dreams all right; till I woke up shaking and sick and puking my guts out. I crawled back into the lab."

"I saw the charcoal," Al commented, clearly understanding. It wasn't the cheap stuff either, but medical grade that Ed kept around because it was a useful component_ and _in case of accidentally ingested chemicals. It was just common sense to have activated charcoal in the lab, and Ed knew that had probably been what saved his life.

Ed nodded. "I passed out. I came too eventually, but I could barely move. It wasn't until the next day I made it over to the hospital."

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Ed turned to see Winry glaring at him, eyes brimming with tears. "Why the hell didn't you call for help?"

"I didn't want anyone to know," Ed replied, once more forced to look at everyone. He was actually surprised at the emotions he saw; compassion, concern, fear, but no hatred, and no pity. "I was ashamed… for being so weak, for trying something that dangerous at all. I knew it was wrong when I did it."

"So Doc Gray thinks you did it on purpose?" Ethan asked.

Ed shook his head. "No, she knows I didn't, Alders agrees, thank goodness. If I'd been_ trying _to kill myself I wouldn't have bothered to measure." A cruel truth, but true nonetheless. Still, Winry cringed when he said it. Tentatively, Ed took her hands in his, squeezing them tight. "I should have told you sooner," he admitted. "But I just wanted to put it in the past and forget about it. It was absolutely terrifying." Damn, he was _shaking_ just thinking about it. He looked sharply up at Al as a thought came to him. "Can you make sure that stuff goes to Doctor Gray's office and no one else touches it until then?"

"Of course, Brother," Al nodded somberly.

"Thanks, Al." He looked at Winry, even though he was speaking to the whole family on some level. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else I _can_ say. I never wanted to put anyone through this. I'm lucky you're even willing to talk to me."

He was so focused in on Winry to keep himself speaking that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a different hand on his shoulder. It was Sara. "We'll work things out, Dad," she replied, then smiled lopsidedly. "You may be a wreck, but we love you anyway."

Ed smiled. It was the most conciliatory thing Sara had said yet. "Thanks. Though _wreck_ is almost too kind of a word after what I've had said about me today." The smile faded. "I'm lucky Breda didn't pull my Alchemist's License right there in his office or hand me discharge papers."

"On that we agree," Al replied, and it felt harsher to hear that from Al than anything else he had said in their arguments over the past few months. "I really thought you knew better, Ed." There was clear disappointment on his brother's face.

"So did I," Ed sighed. For a minute the room fell quiet.

"Well enough of this," Gracia finally broke the silence. "We're here as a family for the first time in a long while, and I think we should celebrate that. Dinner's ready."

The mood broke and everyone started moving for the table. Ed was grateful once more for Gracia. Winry didn't move though, her hands still locked in his. "Is that _everything_ you need to tell me, Edward?" she asked looking deeply into his eyes as if she was trying to read his mind.

"No," he replied softly. "But… not with everyone here, please. I can't take any more."

"All right," Winry gave his hand an understanding squeeze, then let go. "Later then."

* * *

The rest of the evening went pleasantly. No one brought up the military or Ed's earlier revelation. Instead Alyse and Ethan talked about school, Winry told stories about Aldon and the family down in Resembool, and Gracia entertained them with amusing stories from some of her latest exploits in fund-raising and helping out local charities.

Finally everyone left, even Ethan who still slept over at Gracia's despite the amount of time he had spent at the house the last few days. It was good to have that little bit of space for just him and Winry to really talk, now that they _were_ talking, and Ed and Winry had both made sure Ethan knew how much they appreciated his thoughtfulness, but also wanted him home as soon as he felt comfortable with it.

Ed and Winry went upstairs to get ready for bed. Since her return, Ed had moved back into the master bedroom. He never wanted to sleep in the guest room again. It reminded him too much of that terrifying night. Sleeping in Winry's arms, snuggled in the bed they had shared for so many years, was where he needed to be.

"I didn't want to say anything downstairs," Ed sighed, leaning heavily against the door. "But there's more to it."

Winry sat down on the bed, watching him with expectant concern. "I know. What's wrong, Ed?"

Now that he'd brought it up, he wasn't entirely sure how to begin. "It's my heart," he finally said, looking down at his feet as he spoke slowly. "Doctor Gray said it was damaged. She said…" Damn it! His throat constricted and he had to make himself keep speaking as he tried not to just start crying instead. "She said I had heart attack because of…of what happened." Winry came to her feet again in an instant, crossing the distance between them and hugging him tightly to her. Ed clung to her tightly, wondering if she could hear the beating of his heart. He could feel it pounding in his chest; had been all too aware of it ever since the appointment. "That night, I was sure I was gonna die, Winry, and it terrified me. Not because I was dying…but because I'd never see you again. Never be able to tell you how sorry I was. And now I have you back and it might kill me anyway."

"Edward," Winry looked up at him. "How bad _is_ it?"

"Pretty bad," Ed admitted. "I mean, I survived till now despite the fact I tried to teach a combat class less than two days later, and I was still drinking every night, so chances are it's not going to fail on me anytime soon." He sighed, making himself look into her beautiful, frightened eyes. "But by all rights and reason I should be dead right now and I'm not. I can't risk pushing myself to the point where I could do more damage."

"So that's why you might not be able to go back to work." A tear ran down Winry's cheek as one hand came up and stroked Ed's face. "When did this happen?"

"Just a couple of weeks before I came to see you," Ed brought his hand up and laid it over hers. Hot stinging tears ran silent trails down his face. "It's not hopeless," he made himself say. "Gray says it may not happen again. If I take care of myself than there's a good chance it won't. But we don't know what I'll be able to do without risking another attack."

Winry took a step backwards, but kept her hands on him, leading him to the bed. Once there, she gathered him in her arms, and Ed found himself lying with his head on her lap, her hands stroking his hair soothingly as he cried. "So we do what we need to make sure you're okay," she said softly.

"I'm scared, Winry." It had been so long since he had been shaken to the core. In the privacy of their room, the terror that he had forced himself to hold back came to the surface. He shook as he cried. "Nothing's going to be the same is it?"

"Nothing ever is," Winry replied sensibly. "Life is always changing, Edward. All we can do is take what we have and improve on it, right? There are things you can do to get better. We just take it one day at a time and see where life takes us, like we always have."

Ed turned, looking up into her face surrounded by the sunny halo of her hair. "You keep saying we. I know playing my nursemaid wasn't part of the deal. I don't want you to feel like you have to do this out of some sense of duty or something." The last thing he ever wanted to be was a burden to her.

"You think I wasn't expecting _something_ when I agreed to come home?" Winry's lips quirked into an amused, loving little smile. "I'm not doing this out of duty, or even because of the vows we made when we got married. I'm here because of how I feel _now_; about you and our family; about _us_. I'm doing this out of love."

* * *

**Author's Note:** And…finis on Story 25! Apparently I can't count. There are only eleven chapters in this story, not twelve! I forgot at some point. Anyway, expect Story 25B and on in the near future. J And I promise…no more tearing Ed and Winry's relationship to shreds.


End file.
